


Queen of the Frozen Wastes

by Faustess



Series: Melt My Heart: An Avengers Saga [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. References, Alternate Universe, Angst and Feels, Awesome Natasha Romanov, Awkward Dates, Awkward Romance, Because of Reasons, Blood and Violence, Bucky Barnes Has Panic Attacks, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Presents, Clint Barton Is a Good Bro, Clint and Laura Barton's Family, Cookies, Decisions, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Everyone Needs A Hug, F/M, Fashion & Couture, Female Protagonist, First Dates, Fluff and Smut, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Gift Giving, Holidays, Hydra (Marvel), Loneliness, Lonely Bucky Barnes, Lonely Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, New York City, Not Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, Old-Fashioned Steve Rogers, POV Alternating, POV Multiple, Paparazzi, Plot, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Post-Thor: Ragnarok (2017), Protective Clint Barton, Restaurants, SHIELD, Self Confidence Issues, Snow, Steve Rogers Angst, Steve Rogers Feels, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Tags Are Hard, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Is a Good Bro, Trust Issues, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-06-26
Packaged: 2019-02-26 02:59:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 29
Words: 64,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13226724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Faustess/pseuds/Faustess
Summary: Set in a post-Ragnarok universe where the Infinity War isn't looming yet.  SHIELD has been rebuilt after removing agents loyal to Hydra.  The Asgardians - and Loki - are trying to build a home on Earth.  The Avengers are working on rebuilding their relationships post-Civil War.In the isolation surrounding these events, Loki has a chance encounter with a waitress in New York, which sets off a chain reaction.Mostly fluff and angst with some eventual violence and eventual explicit smut.





	1. The Meeting

“You look tense.” The young woman’s eyes studied his features. His green eyes glinted. Sig bit back a grin, a surprised half-laugh escaping. “You’re nervous.”  
  
Her companion looked annoyed. “I’m not nervous. You’re meeting the family, that’s all.”  
  
He steered her by the elbow toward the deli that looked like it had seen better days. Signs in the window. Giant KOSHER Pickles 99 cents. City’s Best Pastrami. The pickle had faded to a tannish red probably sometime in the 80s.  
  
He inclined his head and opened the door for her, but didn’t speak. As she stepped in agents with Star Trekkish scanners waved them vaguely in her direction, heads and scanners bobbing up and down, side to side and then beckoned her to step forward. “She’s clean.”  
  
Heart in her mouth, Sigrid stepped forward. Her feet moved without her for a moment. A group of people sat around a large circular booth in the back of the restaurant with sandwiches in front of them. The scent of French fries was overwhelming. She could feel the blood drain from her face, lips tingling. She wouldn’t white knuckle her purse. Or finger the edge of her sweater cuff. She really was meeting his family.  
  
The agents were back to scanning. Their devices blinked and beeped angrily. She took a few more steps and turned to see the agents patting him down. He looked annoyed and embarrassed, but unsurprised. He was attractive in his sorta goth vibe. It suited him. Even the tie. And his eyes… it really felt like he saw her.  
  
“Brother! You made it!” A voice boomed out of the back. Sig glanced over to see some big blond guy in the back of the booth was trying to stand up and wave as though they weren’t the only group in the place. Like they could miss a guy that built.  
  
Natasha Romanov pulled his arm. She hissed “Sit down Thor, you’re going to knock over the table.”  
  
Thor sat down smiling broadly. “I knew he’d come. I told you.” He had lowered his voice, but it still filled the deli. Thor, God of Thunder, Hero of Asgard.  
  
She was Loki’s “plus one” to this lunch. She pulled out a smile forged from years as a waitress.  
  
“Sigrid Vinter. Nice to meet you, your majesty.” She shook Thor’s hand. She could swear he almost blushed. Maybe being king took some getting used to?  
  
“Bring a chair that my brother may be seated!” Thor bellowed. He beamed at her. “It brings me joy that my brother has brought a friend.” And to Loki as though she couldn’t hear him, “And such a pretty friend.” He was waggling his eyebrows at Loki and everything. So, Loki hadn’t cleared that up misconception yet.  
  
She ordered. “Vanilla shake and fries. Do you guys still have the giant pickles for a dollar?” The waitress looked unimpressed and grunted. “Then I’ll take one.” The waitress scowled at Loki.  
  
“I’m sharing.”  
  
“Get your own, God of Lies.” She looked at him through her eyelashes. The hilarity of the situation struck her again, but now felt too close to panic. What if Thor didn’t like her? Was he her king too? Was she under any obligation to move to New Asgard? What if he liked her too much?  
  
Loki cleared his throat, still looking uncomfortable added, “Chocolate shake.”  
  
General amusement made the circuit. This passed, replaced by small talk amongst themselves. Glancing at Loki, she saw a portrait of tension – a carefully calm expression. Was he worried about Thor’s opinion of her or that she’d made it crystal clear for him how angry she was at him?  
  
The waitress picked that moment to show up with a pickle half the size of her forearm. Sigrid could practically see Stark’s mind fall into the gutter. Just as his mouth opened to make some smutty remark, she sliced the pickle in half the long way, then in quarters and across.  
  
“Pickles anybody?” she chose one and crunched. Stark deflated.  
  
Thor looked more cheerful. “Gladly maiden!” She could almost see the innuendo fly over his head. But she liked his enthusiasm and what appeared to be genuine pleasure at seeing her – and seeing her with his brother. Steve Rogers and Natasha looked across the table at each other, then at Sigrid – both seeming to think that ‘maiden’ wouldn’t have been one of the first words that came to mind when thinking of Sigrid. Thank God James wasn’t here…  
  
And their food arrived! Even better – nothing more awkward than sitting around while other people eat.  
  
“Can I have a taste?” she asked, picking up the silver tumbler and spoon of Loki’s chocolate shake.  
  
Loki looked irked. “You told me to get my own, so I have.”  
  
“So I could try both – obviously.” She held the spoon up part way out of the cup, the question in her eyes.  
  
He waved his hand with an “I don’t care” flick. The other members of their group were trying not to stare, their sandwiches and beer suddenly fascinating. She offered her vanilla shake.  
  
“No thank you.”  
  
She took a spoonful of chocolate ice cream. “Shake” was a euphemism. “No really – try it. It’s good.”  
  
“I don’t like vanilla.”  
  
“You said you’d share before, even though you didn’t want to?” She ate another spoonful. Damn. Chocolatey as sin. Yum…  
  
“I lied.” He hissed.  
  
“Excuse me? What?”


	2. Seriously Stark?!

“I said I lied!” Loki said a little louder than he’d meant to. She was starting to irritate him. Sigrid arched her eyebrow and laughed.

Wanda spoke up with her soft Sokovian accent, “Maybe you’ll make an honest man of him?” Thor thumped the table and laughed in approval and the dishes jumped. Napkins wiped up sloshed drinks and focus shifted back to generalities.

Loki stole glances at Sigrid. Until recently, he’d only known her as another waitress at one of the restaurants he regularly visited. His usual waitress was Julie, who had few features to distinguish her from the other waitresses. _Why were mortals so bland?_

Then, a different girl had served him. “Hello My Name Is Sigrid.” said the name tag and the girl. A false smile. In this land, girls were paid to smile in restaurants. It was called tipping. Her hair was pulled back into a smooth ponytail. Her face was interesting – appealing even – but not “cute.” Her chin was a little too pointed and lips a little too thin to be conventionally pretty. Anyway, ‘interesting’ always rated higher than conventional to him.

He read while eating. The food… Really, it was better not to pay too much attention to the food. He wanted to learn something of the Asgardians’ new home. If conquering Midgard by force was out, then perhaps a diplomatic solution might suffice – and this required research, something he excelled at.

On his way to the subway after dinner, he saw the girl, “My Name Is Sigrid,” waiting at the bus stop nearby. She wore a black tank top under her work blouse with a fitted black leather jacket over. A worn backpack rested at her feet. She sat looking at her phone, looking very bored. Despite the cold night, she didn’t appear uncomfortable with her lighter jacket.

Sigrid turned her head to look down the street – presumably for her bus. She noticed him walking and half-waved. “You waiting for the express to the Bronx?” She sounded extremely skeptical. “You seem more like a Midtown kinda guy.” Her accent was unusual, vaguely Germanic, but heavily flavored with long-time New York resident. “No offense.”  
“None taken. Just walking home.”

“You walk? In those shoes?” there was something of a gibe in her tone.

Loki looked at his shoes. They went very nicely with his suit. “Not everyone can pull off combat boots.”

“That’s for damn sure,” she muttered. Sigrid shook her head slightly. “I’m sorry. It’s late. The bus is late and I’m tired. Not trying to be rude. Don’t want to keep you from” she waved her hand “whatever.”

She was brushing him off, dismissing him. As if he didn’t have better things to do than chat with surly waitstaff. He was a god among mortals. Though his freedom was hampered. Sometime in the last few years, while he’d been ruling Asgard disguised as Odin, SHIELD had developed a method of detecting his seidr, his magic, undoubtedly with the assistance of Tony Stark and Bruce Banner. Nevertheless, his liberty (such as it was) depended on him not using his magic unless specifically working with the Avengers or on SHIELD-sanctioned missions. In the vernacular of the people, this sucked.

Rogers, trying to be nice had said, “Try not to make waves and it’ll get better.”

She looked exhausted, like she needed a good neck and shoulder massage and a hot beverage liberally dosed with whisky. He was ready to offer a cab ride, but the bus cornered, and she stood. Instead, he said, “Good night,” and touched his fingers to his brow as though tipping a nonexistent hat to her.

“See ya around.”

He didn’t eat there every night, but often enough that he wondered when he didn’t see her again for nearly a week. One seldom met interesting people. Loki wanted to see her again to pinpoint what about her intrigued him. The facts outlined in mental bullet points did not add up. He frowned at his book for the evening, _The Russian Revolution_ by Richard Pipes. He pushed the pasta around on his plate. Without the distraction of class warfare and a coup d’état of intellectuals subverting the emperor’s rule, the pasta was just gluey and disgusting.

He pushed away his plate and sat back in his booth. Going out for meals was one of the few attempts he made to fit in here in Midgard. Though he’d tried to take over their city, very few New Yorkers recognized him, but he did try to avoid standing out more than necessary. Thus, the dimly lit restaurants sans romantic atmosphere.

“The plight of the working man got you down, comrade?” Sigrid leaned on his table.

Tonight, her hair was twisted back in a clip. It might be the light, but it looked more mussed tonight than it had the other day, like she hadn’t combed it before putting it up in the clip.

“I – uh, well, no. Not really.” He wasn’t sure how to respond to her. She was dressed in her casual clothes with a black hooded sweatshirt under a denim jacket, jeans with holes in the knees and her boots. A small pink knit cap with a winking face embroidered on it was her nod to the fact had been lightly snowing for three days.

She looked amused. “Then the food really is that bad.” She considered a moment. “I’m going for dinner now that I’m rich again,” she said waving her paycheck. “It’s not as conducive to reading, but it’s tasty. I’ll take you if you want to go.”

“Anything to forget… that.” Unmasked disgust in his voice.

“Don’t do me any favors, Mr.” She rolled her eyes a little, but didn’t seem to be offended. Sigrid waited outside for him to pay.

Then they walked toward the park. “There’s a street vendor over there who sells the best falafel. The. Best.”

Overall, they enjoyed a companionable silence, but he also enjoyed their conversation. She asked him about his reading and seemed surprisingly knowledgeable. They had moved on to the First World War and trench warfare while eating truly delicious Middle Eastern food and sitting on a cement retaining wall.

The man with the falafel cart had packed up and gone home after they’d gotten their food. He had given her a paternal kiss on the cheek and told her to be careful when he left. Sigrid had patted him on the shoulder, “I’m always careful, Nassir!”

And here they were, eating in silence for the moment. She seemed perfectly at ease in the night, though he knew mortals were more delicate physically. Indeed, the news seemed filled with them killing one another over trifles. “You are a very strange woman.”

Sigrid smiled – the first that Loki saw actually touch her eyes. “Thank you, sir. You sure know how to flatter a girl.” A little burst of laughter escaped.

“You seem at ease. I… I find people are usually anxious in the dark.”

“Is there a reason I should be anxious?” her eyes laughed at him.

“Well, um… No.” That was the outside edge of the truth. He didn’t intend to harm her. Whether she was _safe_ with him, that was something else.

“Then why am I strange?”

“You can talk about history, you’re articulate. Unafraid.”

“I suppose so. You find that odd?”

“Yes. There aren’t many people I enjoy speaking with.”

“Thank you.” Her eyes smiled. “I find that true too. I’m glad we met.”

There really shouldn’t be this schoolboy swell of pleasure in his chest. This mortal girl enjoyed his company. Why shouldn’t she? It wasn’t for nothing that Asgard’s court had called him Silver Tongue – though they’d mostly intended that as an insult. She asked unexpected questions, mocked him – but only for the ways he tried to fit in here on Midgard, clothes, where he lived – not about _himself._

His phone buzzed. A text from Stark, **“Coming?”**

It really was after midnight. Loki sighed irritably. **“I’ll be there.”**

**“Is that a girl? OMG! Are you on a date??”**

Loki looked up. Hundreds of feet up, he could see the glowing blue light of the arc reactor in Stark’s suit. Furious and trying to control his anger, he looked up when he saw motion from the corner of his eye. Sigrid had followed his eye.

“Wow, does Iron Man spy on all your conversations? I figured he’d be out saving the world or something.” Sigrid looked back at him, tilting her head.

And like that, the fury receded. “Ah, no. Not all of them. At least I don’t think so.”

“Anything you want to tell me Mr. L. Laufeyson?” her eyes still smiled at him, mouth quirked in amusement.

“Ahhh – No?” It did come out more like a question.

Sigrid tipped her head back and laughed. Her icy blond hair fell over her shoulders and with the laughter, the two combined in his mind into a chorus of silver bells. Loki looked away. Her laughter sounded bubbly, contagious, genuine. _Sentiment._ Yesterday’s Loki would be mercilessly disparaging today’s self. His chest felt tight again.

Still smiling, she said “How about you let me know when you’re back from your date with the billionaire playboy?”

“It’s –“ she knew it wasn’t a date. She knew. _She knew._ Loki felt a little sick.

“Helloo?” Sigrid waved a hand in front of his face. “I’m trying to give you my number?” She rolled her eyes and plucked his phone out of his hand and added herself as a contact, then texted herself from his phone. Handing him back his phone, “You’re welcome.”

He sat, all his words failing him.

 **"C’mon Reindeer Games, wrap it up!”** His phone buzzed.

He looked at Sigrid. “Will you answer” a raw edge of vulnerability, “If I call?”

She shook her head impatiently. “Don’t be an idiot.” She looked sympathetic though and touched his arm. “I’m no good at a long con. Set you up now to disappoint you later? Not my style.” She smiled devilishly. “I’m more of a sudden, blinding vengeance kind of girl. Yes, of course I’ll answer.”

She stood. “I’d better get going. I don’t want to get you in trouble… L.” Her eyes twinkled. “And be careful, ok? Come back?”

“Asgardians are hard to perish. You may regret this.” He shook is phone.

“Then I’ll look forward to those regrets.” Sigrid squeezed his arm and pressed something into his palm, turned and walked away.

He watched her until she faded into the shadows then opened his hand. Inside, a chain. A bracelet? Made of glass? He turned it over in his fingers.

 _Ice._ A chain made of ice.

THUD. Stark touched down. Loki slid the bracelet on.

“Man, did you call her a cab or something?”

“No. She’s fine. I – It’s not what you’re thinking. She’s a friend. It’s not like that.” _Come back?_ Maybe it was like that. Precisely like that. Gods.


	3. We Meet Again

Lying in his room at the Avenger’s compound in upstate New York, Loki stared at the ceiling. He should be disgusted. He tried to summon the irritation and loathing he’d felt when Thor had described Jane Foster to him. Their brief mortal lives. The bracelet’s cold prickled his wrist and he touched it. It hadn’t melted. Was it the Jotun magic innate within him that kept it solid?

He sighed, closing his eyes. From the mission brief, he’d be gone for at least a week. Probably two with all the debriefs afterward. Containing the political fallout. He and Director Coulson had a tense relationship, but both tried to use the other as an asset. Usually it worked out.

Knock, knock. “Brother, may I enter?”

Loki sat up. “Yes.” Without enthusiasm.

Thor stood in the doorway. Loki’s room hadn’t been designed for comfort. It was a prison cell with few frills – intended no doubt to remind its occupant where he’d be if he weren’t appropriately grateful for his position. “Did Stark speak the truth?”

_‘Hey guys! Guess what? Bambi’s got a girlfriend!’_

Loki didn’t know who to be angrier at – Stark for being his vulgar self or at the rest of them for not believing such a thing possible.

Thor looked serious and Loki couldn’t tell if he was about to receive a lecture about the fragility of mortals or something more appalling and less appealing.

“It’s true that I met someone and that someone is female.” Thor didn’t speak, so he added, “We’ve spoken on a few occasions. That’s all.”

His wrist tingled with the cold and he couldn’t stop himself from smiling to taunt Thor. Thor frowned thoughtfully then spoke quietly, but gently. “Does she know who you are?”

“Yes brother, she knows.”

Thor nodded to himself. “I have to return to our people.” Putting a hand on Loki’s shoulder, “I am glad you’ve found a companion.”

“No admonitions about mortal consorts?”

“Not tonight.” Thor squeezed his shoulder and smiled.

Thor had gotten better at not offering every. single. piece of advice about Midgard. It was almost more irritating having him look at one with that expression that just begged to be asked. _Please Thor tell me all the banal details you’ve scraped together about Midgard._ Infuriating.

He fell asleep thinking about the practical jokes he’d played on Thor in their youth. The snake one really was a classic.

He dreamt of icy blonde hair, pale grey eyes and Sigrid’s laugh.

Sigrid’s laugh? He woke and sat up. He could swear…. That sound of silver bells made him shiver involuntarily.

Loki refreshed his appearance with a deft flick of the wrist and walked out. Entering the main living area, he saw Stark, Steve Rogers, Barton, Barnes, and Banner. _The three B’s_ , he thought to himself. They were clustered around a woman wearing tactical gear, platinum locks twisted back into a knot at the back of her neck. Natasha Romanov spoke animatedly with Agent Coulson.

Coulson stood up. “Good, you’re here. I don’t think you’ve met Agent – “

“You wish Coulson.” A friendly gibe.

Not missing a beat, Coulson continued, “Our consultant, Sigrid Vinter.”

Loki’s mouth felt dry. What kind of trick was this? Was he still dreaming?

Sigrid parted the sea of male attention and walked toward him, eyes sparkling with humor. “Actually, we have met, Director.” She took Loki’s hand. “I didn’t think I’d see you again so soon, L.”

Had she been spying on him? One of SHIELD’s tools to monitor him?

Then he looked up and read envy or irritation on the faces of her fan club. Hmm, maybe not. Or if she was, then the Avengers hadn’t known about the surveillance.

She smiled slightly, “Not glad to see me?”

“Just surprised.”

Her fingers touched the bracelet and she winked. She took his breath away. And that tactical armor emphasized certain parts of her anatomy extremely well. She let go of his hand and joined Natasha and Coulson at the counter discussing what they knew about the Hydra facility they were going to take out in New Jersey.

He blinked and recovered, unsure if he’d been standing there in a stupor long enough for anyone to notice or not. Coffee. Getting coffee was a natural thing people did on Midgard. That’s what he’d do to make everything seem normal.

Coffee with milk anyway. Au lait. _Snap out of it!_

Stark came over as he was pouring the milk. “ _She’s_ the little piece I saw you with last night?”

From the area of the counter, “I can hear you!”

Stark looked at Sigrid then back to Loki. “Wow. I’m impressed. Sorta had you pegged as batting for the other team, ya know?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He really hated Stark right now – more than usual.

“I just have to ask – as a public service to the team. Where did you two meet? Been dating long? Have you…?” The last question was accompanied by knowing looks and an eyebrow waggle.

“Stark you’re behaving like a child.” As vexing as Stark could be, losing his temper was only likely to make things worse. Reminded him of Fandral always trying to keep him on the outside of Thor’s group of friends when they were children… and succeeding. Swallow the anger. Now was not the time.

Stark held up his hands as if surrendering. “All right, all right. Who knew _you’d_ be all ethical with the kiss and tell.”

Loki picked up his cup and walked out to the patio. They rarely discussed mission details with him until they’d put their plan in place. The more 'action-oriented' members of the team always vetoed his plans that relied more on stealth, sabotage, and illusion than brawn and outright confrontation.

Outside, frost had created a crystalline world, covering grass, shrubs, and the smallest tree branches with its soft white shimmer. Steam curled above his mug and he wrapped his fingers around the cup, sipping. With his illusion, he left a clone holding the cup, standing serenely. Cloaking himself, Loki took the actual cup and carefully walked around to the edge of the patio out of the main line of sight from the sliding door before walking out into the grass and covering his footprints with an illusory untrodden lawn as he walked toward the outbuilding they used for training.

Imagining the training dummies were Stark and letting his daggers sink into their throats was extremely therapeutic, but didn’t quite work out the anger. As much as Loki enjoyed planning elaborate practical jokes and startling other people, he didn’t like surprises himself.

He set the training course controls to automatic and started the routine. Aside from being able to free part of his mind through physical exertion, it helped being able to make his enemies appear how he wished. Sometimes it helped to sort through who he truly hated from those he merely couldn’t stand. For instance, Dark Elves couldn’t die enough to ease the loss of his mother, no matter that they were extinct.

Waiting for the program to reset and launch a new set of objectives, he heard a throat clear behind him. Loki rolled his shoulders and let the vertebrae in his neck settle back into their proper places, releasing some of the tension in his upper body.

He was slightly surprised to see Steve Rogers hanging back, waiting for him. “To what do I owe this pleasure?” Usually they sent Romanov to find him when they were ready to go. She didn’t like him, but she didn’t actively try to antagonize him either, which he respected.

Loki expected some kind of pep talk about not letting Stark get under his skin. “Is it true that you’re dating Sigrid?” Cap was full of surprises today.

“No. We’ve spoken a few times. Stark is just being Stark.”

The look of concern just deepened. “Be careful, ok?”

Loki’s eyes flashed. “Do you think that little of me?”

Rogers searched for the words he wanted. “No – no… not like that. I… I can tell you’re trying. Big picture, I don’t trust you, but – no, that’s not what I meant.”

“Please, then. Enlighten me.” The bitter taste of rage tasted metallic in his mouth, but he smiled nonetheless.

Steve paused again. “She…”

“Gods, man – spit it out!” irritated.

“Coulson only asks her to come on missions where he’s cleaning out Hydra facilities.” Seeing his point hadn’t struck home yet. “Where they’re expecting a fight… and not many survivors.”

_“What?”_

“Not many _Hydra_ survivors.”

Loki shook his head, not understanding.

Rogers looked over his shoulder, as if expecting someone to be listening. “I’ve never seen anything like her before.” To Loki’s honed observations, it looked as though Rogers was trying to repress a shudder. “I’m just glad she’s on our side. I’ve only gone on a couple of missions with her. Small team, no extraction plan.” Rogers shook his head in disbelief at a memory. “I think they usually send her in alone.”

Cap sighed and put a hand on Loki’s shoulder. “I’m just saying we’re just starting to get used to you. Be careful.” Cue the brotherly shoulder squeeze right from the Thor book of plays. Then as an afterthought, “Tony wouldn’t tease you so much if he’d actually seen her in action.”

Rogers gave him another pat on the shoulder and left.

Sigrid slid inside past Rogers. She looked sheepish and bit her lip. “Steve warning you off?”

Shrugging, “Kind of. He means well.”

She smiled softly. “Yeah, Steve is one of the good guys. Believes in second chances. That people are basically good.” Her hands gestured the etcetera. “I don’t, so we don’t always see eye to eye.”

“That’s ironic… Should I be worried?” Sigrid looked much too young for that kind of cynicism. Twenty?

“I told you. I don’t do the long con. I’m too impatient.” She smiled and for a moment, he glimpsed the girl she must’ve been as a child. “For now, if you’re not Hydra, then I don’t care what you’ve done.” Pausing again, “That’s something else Steve doesn’t understand.”

“He’s not exactly their friend.”

She shook her head. “He fights because he’s ordered to and he tries to… disable, immobilize, sabotage.” Her face set in a grim stare, her eyes ferocious and cold. “If I could, I’d annihilate them to the last man.”

It was daunting to see someone else with a hatred deep enough to come close to those he held himself. He stepped closer to her, but didn’t touch her. “What did they do to win your esteem?” He smiled, eyes glittering.

“They killed my Cerise.” Her nostrils flared, her lips pale.

Loki stayed silent, listening. Her mind was somewhere else. She closed her eyes for a moment, calming. “Cerise was like a sister to me, my friend. She was the only one I had for many years.” She looked up at him, then turned away.

Loki held up a hand. “May I see?”

“My memories?” A ghost of a smile. “Coulson said you could see into people’s minds. If you’re asking, then…” she considered, “maybe. Not now.”

Sigrid looked so far away. He stepped close enough to hold her, but didn’t reach out to her. “I can be very patient.”

She sniffled a little and bridged the space between them, resting her forehead on top of his shoulder. Softly, “The king of the long con.”

“Not a king.” He stroked her hair, feeling the tumult of thoughts, but he didn’t reach out for them, as tempting as it was.

He could feel her smile a little. “Would you accept ‘connoisseur’? Or do you prefer to be an ‘authority’ on the matter?” She looked up, the warmth returned to her eyes.

“The lady’s preference.”

A knock and the door opened again. Romanov peered in, “It’s time, c’mon.” She held the door for Sigrid and Loki.


	4. Garden State Mission

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the chapter that has most of the violence. I tagged the story for it, so if you've gotten this far, I'm assuming you won't mind.  
> Poetry quotation from Lord Byron's "She Walks in Beauty." Song lyrics by Jim Morrison and the Doors, "5 to 1." I don't own the poem or lyrics and to my knowledge, they're brief enough for fair use.

Their group met the others at the Bus and the pilot wasted no time in taking off. Natasha and Barton would parachute down. Loki always opted to use a portal. So much faster, but the other Avengers didn’t usually avail themselves of this option unless no other was practical.

Sigrid spoke up, looking at Captain America. “Do you want to race Steve? I’ve been practicing…” She smiled mischievously and elbowed him. Sig knew she made the Avenger uncomfortable and wanted to do her part to foster healthy teamwork – and a little competition.

Rogers smiled in spite of himself. “You wearing a chute?”

Sigrid scoffed. “As if, Stars and Stripes.” Smugly, “I’ve got a new trick. I think you’ll be impressed.”  
  
Cap chuckled. “Last time was kind of a fiasco.”

“I’m older and wiser now. And anyway, it all ended up working out ok last time.”

Rogers’ smile had faltered when he glanced over at Loki, who was standing to one side away from everyone else. Sig followed his gaze and smiled at Loki, excitement flickering in her eyes.

“You going to watch from the ground?” She bit her lip. “It’ll be worth it! Promise,” raising her pinkie finger as if to promise.

“If you insist.” He sounded disinterested, but his scowl while she’d been teasing Steve hadn’t been her imagination. “Is it a contest?”

Steve and Sig spoke simultaneously, “No.” “Yes.”

Loki appeared to consider. “Then is it who reaches the ground first, or who looks better doing it?”

Cap grumbled good naturedly about the judge being biased.

Loki raised an eyebrow. “I will be completely objective. After all, you are a very attractive specimen. So firm and… bulging with righteousness…”

Steve blushed red and tried to ignore him and the smirk. Sigrid snickered. Every time she looked at Loki, he pursed his lips or raised his eyebrow – some small gesture meant to imply much and embarrass more.

Natasha interrupted to brief Loki on where he needed to be and his exact objectives. Sig watched him listen intently. So focused. The pale green of his eyes cold, planning.

Suddenly she felt foolish. He would think her a child showing off. _How far would that be from the truth, Sig?_

Barton waved a hand in front of her face. “You’re not nervous, kiddo?”

She shook her head.

“All right – if you say so.” Clint winked. He was like an older brother to her – they’d gone on multiple missions together before. He looked over at Loki and then back at her as if to say ‘Really? _Him?!_ ’ and she could feel her cheeks start to burn.

Sig recited, “He walks like the night… Of cloudless climes and starry skies; And all that's best of dark and bright meet in his aspect and his eyes...”

She spoke softly enough that she didn’t think she’d be heard across the plane with the engines droning so loudly, but both Steve and Clint heard her.

Clint rolled his eyes. “Poetry? Jesus, kid.” He shook his head in mock dismay. “Rogers, our princess is growing up.” He wiped a fake tear away.

“Shut up!” Even her ears felt warm now.

The hatch was opening now and when Sigrid looked up, Loki was gone. She pushed a parachute into Clint’s arms.

She stood, rolling her shoulders, trying to regain her mental equilibrium. Steve was already making his way to the open door. He half-saluted those remaining, and arms and legs pulled in close to his body, stepped out of the plane, rocketing down like a bullet.

Sigrid nodded to Natasha and Clint, ran up and jumped feet first, tucking her arms in. She counted slowly to herself, _7… 8… 9… 10_. And pulled the moisture in the air toward her, feeling it freeze between her shoulder blades and grow. Catching the air pulled and hurt her shoulders more than it had practicing in the city, but she was gliding. It worked! She could move where she wanted to go by twisting and turning her body and slow herself by opening her arms and legs and using the ice wings to glide and control her speed of descent.

When she got close enough to the ground, she enlarged the surface area and slowed to make her descent a running landing. The ice folded around her forming a protective armor. She threw a spike of ice toward the guard speaking into his shoulder-mounted walkie talkie. It caught him under the ear and he fell.

She let her momentum carry her forward running and hyperalert for Cap’s shield, Clint’s arrows, and gunfire all around. The combination of the ice and Kevlar had great stopping power, but she’d be bruised for a few days everywhere she was hit. The helmet had formed itself around her head in a Jack Frost crown of crystalline feathers and spikes.  
Shield whistling toward her, she slid on her thigh and stabbed up at the next guard, the spike of ice covering her right hand stabbing him in the inner thigh. Down and bleeding. She sprang up and jabbed the spike into the man felled by Cap’s shield.

The door slid open like at the grocery store with more Hydra agents pouring from within. Sigrid reshaped the ice at her right hand, lengthening it, sharpening, and swung down below the body armor on their thighs, the first couple men carried by their momentum, fell forward without the lower halves of their shins. She stabbed down at their chests with the icy dagger in her left hand. Bringing her weapons up to deflect their blows. Blossoms of gore freezing to her supercooled frozen armor.

Others fell to bullets. She dodged a particularly nasty beam weapon and saw a black dagger embed itself in the wielder’s eye. Widow and Cap entered the facility and she followed. Where they went left, she and Hawkeye went right. Loki’s job was to ensure they didn’t find any locked doors or traps. She was Clint’s tank.

Forward, slash. Drop, throw. Arrows flying, some exploding. After four rooms, they were coming back toward the center where they’d send the explosives Black Widow was carrying down the central elevator shaft, burying anyone below alive in the explosion.

Room by room so no one escaped. _'Five to one baby, one in five. No one here gets out alive…'_ The door of the fifth room exploded off its hinges. A man nearly seven feet tall stepped through the splinters and swung at her, connecting with unnatural speed. Sigrid was knocked back into the wall, ears ringing, the room going woozy around the edges. The starburst of a deep fracture in her frozen armor imprinted on her right shoulder.

The titan closed the distance between them and he held her up by her throat, the nearest seam in her armor. He held her there, pinned to the wall for a moment. He spoke, but her brain wasn’t interpreting language into anything understandable. _Other voices nearby – whose?_

With his other hand, the super soldier crushed the icy dagger she held in her left hand. His left arm appeared to be made of metal. The titan’s right hand was crushing her left hand. Sig couldn’t breathe – the man was yelling, and she couldn’t hear him properly. Screaming at her. Screaming. Screaming.

All she could see was spittle at the corners of his mouth, the fleshy pink of the corners of his eyes. Sig was struggling, but the blackness was raccooning her vision. As the haze filled in her vision, an arrow struck the titan’s temple sending a blast of electricity through him and from him to her. His hands released, and her vision turned from black to a reddish haze.

Sig’s chest heaved, greedily pulling air into her lungs. The man was stirring despite several bullet wounds and the arrow’s charge. She saw his right hand swollen and purplish, frostbitten from contact with her bare hand. Bastard tried to sit up. She could hear shouting around her. Stabbing him with the spike that formed around her right hand. Into the soft place under his chin. Again and again and again. Crouching over him, blood and bloody foam spraying around her, freezing, and landing on her like horrific confetti.

Too spongy to stab. Tearing it free. The head. Toward the elevator shaft – their rendezvous point. She didn’t look to see if Hawkeye followed her. He knew their plan. He’d follow behind her.

Cap and Widow were setting up the explosives in the elevator. As they stood, she tossed the head in, sending it down to be exterminated for certain. Can’t be too careful with cybernetics.

Running. The path out has some guards from other parts of the compound running inside like honeybees trying to defend against the coordinated attack of wasps. Futile. They fell with daggers of ice in their soft places: eyes, necks, inner thighs. Others dropped out of her way, dispatched with bullets, bashed by the shield. Charging them. She sliced their feet out from under them. Her enemies to be eradicated in moments when the bomb detonated.

The hallway ahead of her changed. Not the hall and the door. The inside of the plane. The green of the man’s clothes on the other side stood out in sharp contrast to the red of her vision and the carnage surrounding her. His lips moved. Speaking to her then past her. Sharply, but she couldn’t understand him. He was pulling her by the forearm, the others following behind.

Voices. Voices speaking loudly to be heard over the roaring. So loud. He touched her shoulder to propel her into one of the basic army style seats in the cargo hold near the door. Sig wheeled and brought the heel of her hand up under his nose hard, allowing her arm to follow through and send him flying into the other side of the plane.  
Then she was surrounded by him, by images of him. They couldn’t all be him. She brought her hands up to cover her face. They were warming up and sticky.

“Sit. Down.” Voice firm. No room for dissent. He did not touch her. The roaring was so loud.

She remained motionless, hands covering her face, over eyes, nose, mouth. Elbows tight over her chest. “Four steps forward.”

2…3…4. There. She turned and slid into the seat. Her eyes closed tight. Seeing in her mind the other eyes she’d just seen falter before her. Voices murmuring and melding with the engines’ roar.

“I’ll fasten you in and then you don’t have to move anymore until after we land.”

She could feel her hand shaking. She held them up to stop him.

Still speaking firmly, but more gently now, “You can take it off whenever you like, but while you’re sitting here, you need it, Sigga.”

Sigrid opened her eyes and scanned Loki’s face. Carefully neutral. Tears began to slide down her cheeks. Her fingers fumbled with the buckle. His slender fingers covered hers, guiding them. A sob welled in her throat and she bit it back.

“I’ve created an illusion around us. If you want to scream and rage, you can – they won’t hear you unless you wish them to.” He hesitated. “I thought you’d like some privacy.”  
Her body shook with pent up adrenaline and emotion. One raw sob after another ravaged her throat. She screamed, overpowered by her own rage and despair. Again and again until she only wept. Tears carving trails in the gore on her cheeks.

He had sat next to her a seat between them to give her space. Now he moved closer, but still didn’t try to touch her. Present. Her adrenaline spent, her body was crashing from battle fatigue and from her body trying to heal itself so rapidly.

Sigrid wiped her eyes with her hands and rested her head on his shoulder. She closed her eyes and felt him put his arm around her shoulders. She hummed and then sang in a whisper to herself.


	5. Please, Tell Me There'll Be Cookies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Outdoors in the snowy woods smut! :D Well, at least some, lol! 
> 
> The brief nerdcore rap lyrics referenced here belong to "Goth Girls" by MC Frontalot. I'm really enjoying the comments and kudos! Thanks so much! :D

Loki leaned his cheek on Sigrid's damp hair, listening. Kissing her hair, letting her sing to comfort herself.

He had seen pieces of her fight. She was ruthless in her strategy of inflicting damage on the most vulnerable parts of the body. How different his brother and the Warriors Three fighting for honor, glory, and the Nine Realms. They’d fought to defeat, not to kill, though sometimes their opponents were slain. They’d laughed and celebrated after their battles – as had he when he accompanied them.  
  
Stroking her hair as she started to cry softly again. “Shhh…”

Perhaps when he’d accompanied Thor into battle they were fighting for victory over their opponents, not necessarily to kill. Sigrid fought to kill with the tools she had at her disposal. And those ice weapons? He hadn’t seen anything like them except on Jotunheim. A Frost Giant on Midgard? Surely not.

He put his hand over hers to steady them. Though they were folded limply in her lap, they were shaking badly. She jumped, startled, staring around her.

He squeezed her hands and the arm around her shoulders. “Sigga…”

She looked at him, at first her eyes didn’t see him. Then they appeared to focus on his features. Her voice rasped, “Loki?”

He inclined his head. “The same.”

She looked around the plane. Her voice still like sandpaper, “We’re here? All of us?”

He nodded in the affirmative. “I believe we’re nearly back to the Avengers base. Are you ready for me to drop my illusion?”

Sig looked at him, confused.

“I put up an illusion to prevent them from seeing you so upset.” He hesitated before continuing. “I did the same thing when my mother died. I was in prison. Powerless to do anything but rage and…”

Sigrid held his hand in hers, nodding her understanding. “Thank you.” Her voice sounded so rough. She rubbed her forehead. “I’ll be all right now.”

Loki dropped the illusion. The portrait he’d painted for them had been similar to what they saw now, so it shouldn’t be too jarring.

He was surprised that Clint came over immediately, as though he’d been able to tell and had kept his distance. Interesting... With Barton’s serious expression, he expected more accusations of mind control and almost spoke before Barton crouched in front of Sigrid with his hands on her knees. Hands fully visible to her and well away from his bow.

“Hey kiddo, can I take a look?”

She nodded and then flinched when he touched the side of her neck gently. Loki hadn’t noticed the bruises and swelling there under the gore. Sigrid pushed Barton’s hands away, croaking “I’m all right Clint.”

“Princess, you are pretty fucking far from ok. When we land, I want Banner to take a look.”

Sigrid started to speak, but Barton held up his hand. “I know you heal fast kiddo. I…” Barton’s voice shook, “I want Banner to check you out anyway, ok?” He took a few short steps as if to rejoin the group on the other side of the plane again and then turned around. “Jesus, kid. You never let them get that close to you again! Never! You hear me?!” He sounded angry, but Loki could hear the fear in his voice, see it leaping in Barton’s eyes.

Now Barton looked at Loki. “Thanks for taking care of her. I couldn’t have. I would’ve messed it up.”

Sig grabbed Barton’s hand. “You saved my life Clint.”

Clint shrugged. “You woulda had him sooner or later… I just sped up the ‘sooner.’” He smiled kindly.

“Thanks for being impatient then.” Sig smiled tiredly.

Loki’s phone buzzed. Stark needed to get over the voice to text option in his suit. He tried ignoring it, but then the phone rang. Both Sig and Barton were watching him.

Irritated, Loki pulled out his phone, surprised to see the number was Norwegian. _That’s right…_ The rest of his portion of the mission. “Yes?... He said what?” Loki pinched the bridge of his nose. “Then what?” To the others, it looked like the conversation was causing him physical pain. “They were offended?... I see… Yes… All right… Of course…” He hung up and stood, sighing. “My brother requires some assistance with some diplomatic issues. I believe he inadvertently offended the King of Norway.” He shook his head, bowed slightly, and opened a portal – stars visible in the night sky at his destination. Loki nodded his head in farewell and stepped through.

Clint and Sigrid looked at each other. “Looks like there’s a free seat, Clint.”

“No offense, but you stink, kid.”

“Your mother dresses you funny, but I don’t say anything.”

“Why I outta….” Shaking his hand in a mock backhand gesture. He sat down in the next seat over. “That was sudden…” pointing to Loki’s still warm seat. “You gonna be all right?”

Sig nodded.

“Hope a shower’s #1 on the list after we land.”

Sigrid gave him the finger.

A few minutes later, the pilot announced their landing, and everyone prepared, buckling up. Sig looked across the craft at Natasha and Steve. Natasha smiled. Steve looked at her and looked away.

Sig studied the edge of her boots until she felt the bump of the aircraft touching down. Now she was impatient to be off the plane and away from Rogers’ disapproval. She unbuckled before the plane stopped moving, hitting the button to open the cargo hold the instant the craft stopped.

She was out. The fresh, crisp air soothed her lungs. Sig strode across the yard and paused at the door to wipe her feet and take off her boots. She walked in, smelling – cookies? The incongruity was a little jarring.

She found the spare room she had used in the past. Others used it too as evidenced by the range of spare clothing in the wardrobe. Sig stepped into the bathroom and stripped off the Kevlar body armor. She noticed a small vase filled with small pink carnations on the vanity. Sig smiled to herself, avoiding looking at herself in the mirror.

She deposited the rest of her blood-soaked garments on top of the Kevlar and stepped into the shower. At least Stark had the sense to include steam showers with rainfall showerheads. Sigrid stood under the hot water for several minutes before perusing the inset shelves of shampoos and soaps. She sniffed several shampoos before selecting one scented with citrus and sandalwood.

Sigrid washed her hair carefully in sections, soaking it and making sure she’d loosened and washed away the ‘debris’ from her hair. She plucked out several metal fragments and set them aside on a shelf next to the soap. No use rushing this part. She couldn’t find a matching conditioner, so selected one that smelled of lemons and thyme.

She washed quickly the first time and then took her time scrubbing with the second pass. She stood in the steam for a few moments and washed her face thoroughly. Stepping out, she took a bath sheet from the towel warmer and walked across the bathroom to the tub. As she filled the tub, she combed her hair, removing the tangles. She touched her fingertips to the petals of the carnations.

After adding some bath salts to the water, Sigrid stepped in and submerged herself under the water. She resurfaced after a moment, feeling much better. She soaked until the water started to cool. Feeling much more the thing, she stepped out, dried off and looked for suitable clothes. Matching bra/panties combinations? Seriously? Well, the black lacy set were better than the fire engine red ones – those were crotchless. _WTF? Isn’t that an HR violation?_ A loose man’s black fisherman’s sweater and pair of black leggings and a pair of big wooly socks. Ideal for spending the rest of her day inert.

Now to find out where that cookie smell was coming from…

On her way to the kitchen, Clint waylaid her and had Banner examine her neck. The bruising was still present, but internally, she could tell the tissues were healing as she could swallow more comfortably now.

Banner hedged, “Seems like it’s healing. We should really do a full physical…”

“C’mon, you two are between me and cookies. Do I have to?” Her voice still sounded more gravelly than usual, but not as rough and rasping as before. Then she sniffed the air and wrinkling her nose, turned to Clint. “Ugh… now who stinks? Dude…”

He chuckled. “Ok, cookies for you and a date with the shower for me.”

“Don’t forget to call your wife.”

“Already done, bossy.”

Banner looked uncomfortable with their familiar banter and edged away. She smiled, “Thanks Doc! See ya later!” and made her way to the kitchen before they changed their minds.

When she got to the kitchen, she saw several racks of cookies cooling and sauntered over to inspect. She put one in her mouth, biting gently to hold it there and picked up 3 more with one hand put a decaf pod into the single-serve coffee machine.

A plate appeared under her hand full of cookies and she looked over to see James Barnes. She mumbled her thanks around her mouthful of cookie. She pushed the remainder of the first cookie into her mouth, though she knew that was both unladylike and rude.

He didn’t really look at her directly, but he generally avoided eye contact with almost everyone if he could help it. Except Steve, but they were childhood friends. Most of the others seemed to feel awkward around him and ignored him to avoid their feelings of discomfort. Sig noticed that Natasha didn’t, though.

Sigrid perched on a stool at the kitchen’s island, breaking the second cookie into fourths and eating a piece. Snickerdoodles. Delicious. Her favorite. She closed her eyes, savoring the soft, faintly spiced richness. Sooo good.

“Do you hate me?” Barnes’ voice was low, curious.

She looked up. “No… Why?”

“Steve said you hate everyone involved with Hydra.” He stood on the other side of the island, more than arm’s distance away.

 _Steve says a lot. Jerk._ “Steve doesn’t like me.”

The timer went off and they both jumped. He turned and pulled out two more trays of cookies. Chocolate chip. Meh. Then the oddness of the situation struck her that Barnes had been baking – was still baking – while they’d been on a mission. She wrapped her fingers around her mug, sipping and watching him.

He looked at her, through the hair that fell over his forehead. He’d tensed as she watched. “Going to laugh?”

She shook her head and ate some more of her cookie. She broke the silence. “These are wonderful.”

He glanced at her, looking for derision. Seeing none, he went back to work. “Steve doesn’t dislike you. He doesn’t -"

“Approve of my methodology.”

Barnes nodded. He plated 5 of the chocolate chip cookies and walked away.

 _Well, that went well._ More than a dozen words in less than an hour. An unofficial James Barnes record broken. She sipped her coffee, eating slowly and felt very lonely. So much activity earlier prepping, the fight… Even before that, her long talk with Loki. What was up with that? She liked him, and he was really interesting to talk to. Definitely some kind of connection there. Probably. But now, she was alone in the vastness of the base.

Sigrid finished her snack and washed her cup and plate. The empty cookie sheets still sat on the counter. Barnes was probably waiting for her to leave before cleaning up. Sig decided to thank him for the cookies by washing up. With all those words earlier, she might not see him again before she went back to the city.

Washing the cookie sheets, she thought about previous missions she’d done with Natasha and Clint. Usually just one or the other. She knew everyone was giving each other space. These clean-out missions weren’t accompanied by celebrations.

Her mind wandered to Loki again. He’d spoken to her comfortingly, but she’d caught a glimpse of revulsion. Was it directed at her or just the gore on her clothes? ‘Diplomatic crisis.’ _Convenient._ Perfect excuse. She wasn’t ready to feel reasonable yet. An angry tear slid down her cheek.

“That one looks clean already.”

 _Rogers._ “You don’t like the way I’m doing it, do it yourself!” She banged the tray on the edge of the sink; the aluminum folding with the force of her blow. Her tears started flowing freely and she ran out the patio doors in her stocking feet.

She let her feet take her wherever they wanted to go. Just let her body move. When her legs came back to her conscious control, she slowed down and stopped at the base of an oak tree. Sigrid sat at the base, tucking her knees under her chin. Elbows tucked between knees and chest, she covered her face with her hands. She could see now that Steve had probably been trying to break the ice. To explain he hadn’t meant any harm by warning a colleague she might try to murder him. _Bastard._

She wept softly into the knit of the sweater. _Pathetic. Some professionalism. Bursting into tears when a co-worker teases you? Why did you think you might be able to add something to an already great team? Stupid, stupid._ Wonderful. Now her brain was ready to be rational.

Eventually, she heard someone crunching through the snow. Wiping her eyes, she looked up. Barnes? She’d figured Clint or Nat would come for her, if they didn’t just decide to wait her out.

Wordlessly, Barnes held out a clean pair of boots. Watching her put them on through his hair. A good trick, that. Boots on, he offered her a hand up, which she accepted.

They meandered, walking toward the wooded part of the land the Avengers’ base occupied.

“Steve was going to apologize.”

“I know. He… ah, caught me at a bad time.”

Barnes laughed. She stopped at the unexpected sound and stared at him, then giggled before tipping her head back to laugh at her own absurdity. The low sound of his laugh sent a curl of warmth through her stomach.

Sigrid notice him noticing the bruises on her neck that had faded from fresh and bluish to just a livid purple. She started walking on.

“Different guy with a metal arm.”

He looked like she’d slapped him.

“He’s dead now.” Barnes’ lips paled and pressed together. She blundered on, “I don’t have anything against metal arms… Stop looking at me like that.” Like he was wishing he was anywhere else but here. She took a deep breath. Softly, “Just because I’m good at it doesn’t mean I enjoy it… Every time afterwards he’s so disgusted he can’t even look at me.”

Why was it so easy to talk to Loki? She’d sounded so reasonable – knowledgeable even. _Together._ Now? Blithering idiot. Not even stringing two thoughts together coherently. How did that song go? ‘But me here? Talk good? No! Only bad talk do.’ And now her life was condensed to a nerdcore rap song.

“Steve?” There was something resigned in his voice.

“Yeah.”

“I could put in a word for you.”

“That I’m not slavering for blood?” She watched the ground ahead of her. “Yeah, thanks.”

“That you’re interested.”

“What? Why would you say that?”

He shrugged. “Glutton for punishment?”

Sigrid looked at him from the corner of her eye. He faced forward, eyes looking between the trees ahead of them.

“I wish he didn’t treat me like a leper after a mission. I don’t like him, like him.” _What would he think if he really knew me? Do I care?_

“Oh.” Was she imagining the spring coming back to his step? “Barton?”

“Married. Totally like an older brother.”

“Loki?”

She shrugged. “I do like him. A lot.” Sigrid sighed. “I think he saw enough today, though, to convince him I’m not ‘suitable royal company.’” Finger quoting, “Sudden ‘diplomatic crisis’ only he could solve. It’s not a terrible excuse to flee from a woman covered in her victims’ blood.”

She felt his hand brush hers as they walked and she slipped her hand into his.

He stopped walking. “Cold?”

Turning toward him, “Always.” Her heart was beating faster. Was it the tone of his voice or that he was making sure she wasn’t already spoken for? Possibilities raced through her mind.

He touched the side of her neck hesitatingly with the tips of his metal fingers and she shivered, feeling her breath quicken. He tensed and started to pull away, but she leaned in and kissed him. He didn’t kiss her back right away. Sig kissed his lower lip gently with several small kisses. By the time she turned her focus to his top lip, though, he had his hands on her hips and was leaning her back into a tree, kissing her back fiercely.

Back against the tree, she pulled up her legs and wrapped them around his waist. He groaned and bit her lip. She laced her fingers in his hair, pulling him closer, kissing him harder, and moaning into the kiss.

He kissed gently from her mouth to the hollow under her ear and then licked down the side of her neck to the space where neck became shoulder and kissed and nipped there. That’ll leave a mark, she thought. “James-" she moaned.

Then his boots slipped on the frozen leaves under the snow sending them both tumbling. Now with her on top, straddling him. Sig pulled off her sweater one-handed, untying a boot with the other. She tossed the boot aside and felt him tilt his hips as he kicked off his own boots. She raised herself and he pulled down her leggings and panties. She laid down on top of him so he could slide them off. Sitting up again, she pushed off his coat and pulled up his shirt over his head.

Sigrid moved her hands over his chest, brushing her fingers over his nipples before leaning down to circle her tongue around one, taking it in her mouth. Pressing herself down onto him. He ran his hands up her thighs and over her ass, squeezing her, and groaning.

He rolled over, on top of her now, kissing her and fumbling with the buttons on his jeans. He pulled them down part way and she felt the heat of the shaft of his cock pressing against her. Sigrid wrapped her legs around him tightly and kissed him. Biting and sucking his lips. “God, James!”

He cupped one breast, rolling her nipple between his finger and thumb, positioned himself, and slid into her with a guttural moan. Thrusting and grinding into her as she dug her heels into the backs of his thighs.

She rolled her hips under him, her arms around him, pulling him closer – her fingernails digging into his muscled back. She was crying out, moaning loudly, and squeezing his cock inside her. He hissed in pleasure and grunted, coming inside her, trying to push farther in. He kissed her swollen lips and withdrew.

As she started to whimper in frustration, he moved down her body, nestling his face between her legs and began to lick her clit. Starting slowly and experimenting with circling his tongue around her clit, running the flat of his tongue over it, until he felt her fingers tighten in his hair. She gasped and arched her back. Pulling his hair and repeating his name. He slid a finger inside her and she came hard, squeezing his head with her thighs.

He moved to lay next to her. She kissed him lazily, her cheeks flushed with pleasure. _Lacy panty set for the win._ He licked her lip and kissed her back, rubbing her side and hip. They looked at each other for a moment. He shivered.

She murmured, “Inside?”

He nodded, reluctant to remove his hands. Reluctant to move period. They sat up and separated, feeling around for their clothes. Sigrid found her sweater right away. The bundle of leggings and panties were in the lower branch of a nearby tree, but she was able to knock them down with a stick.

Sigrid looked over her shoulder, hearing the low rumble of his laugh. Then she laughed as he slipped while buttoning his pants.

She surveyed his rumpled appearance after he’d found all his clothes. She was still down a boot and a sock. After searching for a few minutes, he knelt down with his back to her and said, “Climb on.”

She did and laughed when he started to carry her. “Do you mind being called James?” With her nose near his ear, Sig could smell the vanilla of the cookies in his hair.

“Only Steve calls me Bucky. Anyone else calls me Barnes.”

“Nat calls you James.”

“We were involved for a while.”

“Does it bother you that she’s in love with Banner?”

“Not really. We were, uh, physical – not intimate.”


	6. Snowball Fight!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a shorter chapter because in my draft copy it's in 2 parts - each with a different POV - and I thought it might be easier to read if they were separate. :D I'll post the other half either later today or tomorrow. 
> 
> I hope you guys are enjoying it! I know it's after Christmas, but it's still cold out, right? XD

With Sigrid’s legs tucked under his arms and her arms around his neck, James B. Barnes felt pretty pleased with life at the moment. His intention of providing a few little comforts hadn’t quite worked the way he’d thought it would. Not often that life worked out better than you hoped.

“I could hop home faster than this, JB.”

He laughed wickedly and leaned forward a bit to adjust his center of gravity. “You asked for it.”

She whooped and laughed with delight as he started running. He’d gotten to a pretty good clip and the building was coming into view when he hit ice hidden under the snow. He slipped forward and then overcompensated and slipped backwards.

“Ugh… Ow…” Sig groaned.

He turned around, concerned. He was on his hands and knees above her. “Sorry ‘bout that.”

Sigrid lolled her head to the side and stuck out her tongue feigning death. She giggled and peeked at him. He leaned down to kiss her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back.

Something cold and wet slid down the back of his neck, under his shirt and between his shoulder blades. She put snow down the back of his shirt! Damn that was cold! He sat up, shaking himself and shivering. “You little…”

She scooted away, running and stumbling over her feet, laughing. She scooped up a handful of snow and gave it a thin shell of ice to hold the powder together and threw it at him, hitting him in the forehead. Sig hit him three more times on the chest and shoulders before he caught her and mashed handfuls of snow in her hair.

“Hey!” Sigrid pulled his coat toward her and kissed him. Instead of the warmth he expected, her lips prickled his with cold. They warmed under his and she tasted his tongue.

He held her face gently, kissing her. Her mouth tasted of vanilla, coffee, and him. He groaned softly and rested his forehead on hers a moment. “ _Snegurochka._ ”

“Worried I’ll melt now that you’ve drawn me out of the winter woods?” Brushing her lips against his again, the frost tingle having returned.

“Why do you do that?” he murmured.

“Because I think you like it. Am I wrong?”

He stood, pulling her up with him. Instead of answering, he commented, “You have frost on your eyelashes, _Snegurochka._ ”

James held her hand inside his coat pocket to warm her fingers, though he knew the cold didn’t hurt her. He stole glances at her as they walked together the rest of the way to the base. His Hydra handlers had given her that name. _Snegurochka,_ Snow Girl, Ice Maiden. The fairy tales made real. Daughter of Father Frost. Both the sharp, crystalline beauty of ice and the deadly promise of the frozen wastes. Most operatives he’d known hadn’t believed she existed – or didn’t believe she could be a single person because rumors about her had started in the trenches of World War I.

He had no doubt that’s exactly whose hand he held now.

“Penny for your thoughts.” Her platinum blonde locks tangled around her face and her eyes sparkled silver grey.

“Just wishing I was the only one who called you that.”

“ _Snegurochka?_ ”

He nodded. “You are a ghost… a story to frighten new operatives.”

“Hydra?”

He nodded again. “Does that bother you?”

Sig considered for a moment, her steps slowing. “No, I don’t think so…” She smiled wryly. “Does that make me fickle?”

James shrugged. “If it does, I don’t care.” He opened the door for her.

They stepped into the living area to see everyone else standing around looking serious. They’d all stopped talking when they came in. She stomped the snow off her feet and brushed off her clothes.

“Lost a boot in the snow.” Sigrid pointed outside. They stared at her. At them. She walked toward the kitchen. “Where’s the cookies?”

Barton started, “That’s it? You run out of here like that and are gone for over two hours and you ‘lost a boot?!’”

“Yes… Did you eat all the cookies?”

“Fuck the cookies!”

“I’m gone for a couple hours and you guys eat like 6 dozen cookies?!”

Barton glared at her. Through clenched teeth, “This isn’t about the goddamn cookies!”

“Fine! I cried my eyes out alone for a really long time. JB came to get me and brought me some shoes and I lost one on the way back. Happy _Dad_?” Then mumbling, “Can’t believe there’s none left…”

All true…

“You’re awfully quiet James.” Nat said softy. Barton didn’t hear her.

“I’m pleading the Fifth.”

Nat smiled and patted his shoulder. “Good for you.”

Sigrid turned to make some hot cocoa and the collar of her sweater shifted. Barton pointed. “What is _that_?”

She looked around, confused. “The tea pot?”

“No, not the tea pot!” then under his breath, “Is that a hickey?” Sig blushed.

“Oh, that.”

“Yeah, that.” He shook his head. “I thought it was about you and…”

She shrugged as if to say ‘yeah, well…’ and smiled. Damn, her smile dazzled. She looked past Barton and was smiling at James now.

He pushed his hair back and took off his coat and then an instant of full eye contact. For that split second, everyone else faded into the background. Those silver eyes glittering like diamonds and his lips tingled, remembering their last kiss.

James swallowed, looking away and turned to Steve who had apparently started talking to him. “Sorry, what?”

Steve pulled him into the next room, so they weren’t standing in front of everyone and then punched his shoulder. “What are you thinking?! You know she and Loki have some weird thing going.”

“She needed someone.”

“And you were right there. Great. Must feel good to be the first guy to show up.”

And then Steve was turning a slow pirouette, James only just realizing that he’d punched his best friend. Rogers touched his nose and saw blood on his fingers.

Steve shook his head slowly, giving him a look falling somewhere in the middle of the pity to contempt scale. “C’mon Buck, you know she’s going to come in and say something about how she doesn’t want two friends to fight, blah, blah, blah.”

He hit Steve again. _Goddamn,_ why couldn’t Steve just be happy for him? It’d been close to five years since he’d stopped being the Winter Soldier and there’d been no one. James hissed, “Take that back.”

“She’s a trained killer.” _So therefore, she was worthless?_

“So am I, Steve.” He pushed Rogers away.

“Bucky, that’s not what I meant.”

James twisted away from Rogers’ hand and stalked off to his room.


	7. Steve's a Good Bro

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second half of chapter 6 (in my writing copy anyway!) - promised and delivered! :D 
> 
> Let me know what you think! I've got a lot written already, but I do like hearing what you think! :D Totally validates my spending so much time with it, lol! <3 to all of you who've been reading!

Sigrid walked in the room just in time to see James climb the stairs at the end of the hall. Rogers was wiping blood from his nose and mouth with the back of his hand.  
  
If you’re angry with me, you shouldn’t take it out on him.”

“Convenient showing up now that he’s out of earshot,” he spat.

“I was going to apologize for overreacting earlier.” She looked at him askance, “Not sure I still need to…”

Rogers sagged and sat on the arm of an overstuffed club chair. “He’s my best friend.” He sighed. “I know he’s been lonely. I just don’t want to see him get hurt.” A flare of temper and he glared at her.

“I understand.”

“So, what’s going on?”

Neither of them noticed James come back down the stairs to stand at the mouth of the hallway.

She shrugged. “I don’t know… Honestly, I’ve never been very good at the whole ‘people’ thing.” Steve snorted in disbelief. “I mean I know I’m… unusual – people are interested at first. Then there’s either revulsion” she gestured to him “or the flame burns bright for a little longer until they realize I’m just another idiot without a clue and they’re disappointed.”

“And Loki?”

“Is charming, intelligent, and great to talk to. Funny.” She looked out the window. “And he’s part of Asgard and it’s nice to be close to that.” It had started snowing again. She sounded sad. “But I don’t think I can live up to his aesthetic expectations. And Asgard will never be a place I belong.”

James studied the grout between the tiles.

“Anything to be closer to heaven?” Steve muttered.

“My mother was Asgardian.” Steve looked at her like she’d grown a third eye. “She came here back in the day when they had that big battle with the Frost Giants.”

“And fell in love with a mortal?”

“With one of the enemy.” Sig licked her lips and continued. “She could’ve asked Heimdall to return her to Asgard, but she’d already conceived. I don’t know if it would’ve been easier growing up there or not.”

“And I’m supposed to feel sorry for you?”

“Geez Rogers… I’m just trying to explain that I’m emotionally like in my early 20’s. Did you have everything figured out then?”

“We’re not talking about me. What about Bucky? Does he know any of this? Do either of them?”

“I think Loki suspects something like the truth. I haven’t spoken with either of them about it though, no. Is that how you start all your dates? Bust out the ol’ family tree?”

Brushing her comment aside, “Well, what about Bucky?”

“Are you asking me if my intentions are honorable Rogers?” She smiled with a hint of amusement. “I heard a lot about _Vinteren Soldat_ over the years. I thought he’d be arrogant, you know… insufferable.”

James closed his eyes, resting the back of his head on the wall.

Sigrid continued with a note of wonder, “But he’s so shy! And warm. Fun, silly… Passionate. And kind. I didn’t expect that.”

“Natasha told him to do something nice for you to cheer you up when we got back.”

“I didn’t expect you to be so petty either… ‘Do something nice’ for someone you don’t know is some Oreos and a grocery store bouquet. Not bake two kinds of cookies to make sure there was one kind they liked.”

Emotions ran the gamut over Rogers’ face. Finally, he said, “Just wanted to make sure you noticed.”

From the hallway, James spoke up, startling them both, “Are you going to apologize for calling her a whore?”

She backhanded Steve’s upper arm hard enough to sting, “What?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“It’s what you meant.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re an over-protective, self-righteous son-of-bitch, Rogers.” Sigrid said with a little too much feeling. _Be professional._ Hastily, she added, “JB’s lucky to have a friend like you.” She smiled.

“Some friend.” James muttered, but with a smile. He came over and took her hand. Rogers took his cue to make tracks.

“How long have you been listening?”

“Heard you singing Loki’s praises.”

She flushed. He continued, “Heard something else too, but I don’t remember. Something about fun?”

Sigrid laughed low and throaty, “I didn’t think Rogers needed to hear the rest of the words I’d use to describe you…”

She hugged him as he stood in front of her perch on the coffee table next to the chair Rogers had been leaning on. He bent and scooped her up. Peeking over his shoulder, she saw Coulson. _Oh yeah… Mission debrief…_

Coulson cleared his throat. “I’ll just need a few minutes with her Barnes. You might want a moment to coordinate travel plans with Cap?”

James reluctantly set her on her feet again. Sigrid winked at him and departed with Coulson to the team room.


	8. He Knows if You've Been Bad or Good

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter with smut! Steve isn't as much of a jerk, but... Well, you'll see. ;D 
> 
> I tried to separate the POV with a line this time, so I hope it reads ok for you. :)

Her mission debrief took a lot longer than either of them thought. Her body cam had caught footage Coulson wanted to discuss. He asked her about her emotional state – how she felt both during and afterwards. Sigrid confessed that post-mission was becoming more difficult and after reviewing the cam footage, she thought perhaps adjusting her fighting style might help.

She got up to gather the rest of the group for the final wrap-up and Coulson stopped her. “Just one more thing Sigrid…”

Sig sat on the edge of her chair again. “What’s that?”

“It’s not like you to get involved so quickly… Anything going on that I should know about?”

She leaned back and ran the fingers of both hands through her hair. _Hmm. A leaf…_ Sighing, “I don’t know Director. Just thinking out loud, here… I’ve worked – and lived – alone for a long time and it’s hard to relate to people on a deeper level who just have regular lives.”

Coulson was listening patiently, letting her talk. “Now, doing more missions with a group of really talented people who either are physically similar to me or who’ve had similar experiences… It’s exciting to not be the only one.” Her smile faded. “But maybe I’m just screwing everything up. I really don’t know. I don’t know…”

The Director folded his hands on the table in front of him. “All right. The Avengers aren’t governed by the same H.R. regulations that SHIELD agents need to adhere to. However, because of the people involved, you need to let me know if there’s anything that’s going to affect national – or global – security or your fitness for duty.” Coulson looked at her hard. “Am I clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

“All right. Let’s get the rest of this over with then. Bring in Romanov, Barton and Cap.”

On her way out, she smiled. Even now, he was still such a fanboy – always Cap, only rarely ‘Rogers.’

Most of the meeting between herself, Director Coulson, Natasha, Clint, and Rogers was pretty standard. It only went off-script at the ‘lessons learned’ portion of the wrap meeting.  
Clint spoke up, “I think Sigrid needs to train with stronger opponents. Maybe Stark in his Hulkbuster rig? Or Thor, but he’s pretty tied up lately.”

And there’s the dark cloud over Steve’s brow again… The thoughts there were practically a scrolling banner on his forehead, _‘Why not Loki? They’re already chummy…’_ before degenerating into grumbles.

Coulson brightened. “Actually, Sigrid and I discussed this, and I think we agree” now he was making eye contact with her that meant ‘don’t contradict me,’ “that it’s best for her to start training with Steve.” One had to admire the Director for continuing on as though no one’s mouths were forming little o’s of surprise.

He smiled and looked at her, expecting her to continue. Sigrid swallowed her surprise and protests. “Practicing non-lethal combat techniques with somebody who won’t take it easy on me.” _Very professional. GG._

Steve looked between her and Coulson, frowning in thought, then making up his mind. “All right, if you’re serious. There’s a gym I go to in Brooklyn. We can meet two, three times a week.”

Coulson stood up. “Great! Keep me posted. Thanks everybody. Good work out there today.”

As they were leaving the team room, Clint said, “Hey, kid, I’ve gotta get back or Laura’ll have my hide.”

Sigrid hugged Clint. “I’ll miss you.”

“You should come up to the farm. We’ve got the space and we’d love to have you.”

“I don’t know Clint… It might be weird. It’s almost Christmas. You should be with your family.”

Clint put his hands on her shoulders and looked her in the eye, “If you weren’t family, I wouldn’t ask, kiddo.”

She smiled and gave him another hug to pretend she wasn’t deeply touched. “Thanks… I’ll think about it.”

Barton headed for the exit with his bag. Apparently, he’d already said his good-byes to Steve and Nat when she and Coulson had their meeting.

Nat came over. “Another one in the books, eh?” Sig was surprised when Nat went for a lady-friend hug, whispering, “Barnes is a good look on you. Nice work…”

Blushing, Sigrid managed to say, “Uh, thanks Nat… Merry Christmas to you too.” Nat winked at her and left, leaving her alone with Rogers.

Steve took a deep breath. “I was out of line before. I’m sorry.”

“Thanks. Send me a text when you know what day you want to start training together.” Sigrid was ready to see where James had wandered off to.

“Umm… I also wanted to let you know that Bucky finally got his visa approved to stay in the city for a while. Three months unless he has to travel outside the country for some reason.” Noting her look of surprise, he added, “Peace offering?” and smiled tentatively.

“Maybe we can all get together for Christmas. See the Rockettes or something.”

“All I’ve got coming up is Tony’s holiday party. Are you coming this year?”

“I haven’t been invited, so I won’t worry about it.”

Steve chuckled a little. “I’m sure you’ll hear from his secretary soon enough. He’s always looking for new interesting people to throw to the wolves…” a glimmer of humor, “ah… to throw into the mix.”

“Is it dressy?”

“Formal attire.”

Sigrid, who still had a couple of leaves in her hair and a wardrobe leaning strongly toward a punk aesthetic paled and started shaking her head in the negative.  
Rogers lowered his voice. “If you talk Bucky into going, you’ll see him in a tuxedo…”

That would very likely make the hours of dress shopping worth it. She nodded. “Ok. If I’m invited, I’ll see what I can do.”

He gestured with his head toward the stairs. “He’s waiting for you in the kitchen.”

* * *

Seeing Clint and Natasha leave, James started making sandwiches in the kitchen. As Sigrid entered the room, he looked up, “Hey. Thought you might be hungry.”

“Thanks!” She sat down in the same stool as before… Well, _before._ “Hey, Steve said you’ll be in New York a while.”

“Steve has a big mouth.”

“You weren’t going to say anything?”

“I hadn’t decided yet.”

“Oh.” She started eating. Not looking at him anymore.

 _Say something, punk._ “I- um.” James opened and closed his mouth. _Now you look like a fish… idiot._ He examined the lines of his knuckles. “I wasn’t sure you’d…”

From around a mouthful of sandwich that was larger than what’s strictly ladylike, she glared and threw a gumball-sized ball of ice at his head. “Oh my god, are you kidding me?! Seriously?” She rolled her eyes. Swallowing, “Of course I want to see you!”

“I just thought it might be a thing that was just for here… Not for… out there.”

She slid off the stool and walked around the island and stood next to him, very close. “JB…” Her hand caressing his cheek, her voice tender and soft. “I know you’re _Vinteren Soldat,_ but I wish you wouldn’t vanish into the night just yet.” The mixture of accents in her voice felt like another caress, rich.

His eyes flicked toward her, expression relaxing. “I won’t if you won’t.” Tracing the lower line of her lip with his thumb.

Rogers called down, “I’m almost ready to head out!”

“You’re leaving now?”

“Steve has a volunteer thing at the children’s hospital tomorrow morning.”

Sig grumbled, but didn’t argue. “I hoped…” She rested a hand on his chest.

He leaned in and kissed her softly. “Me too.”

Sig kissed him back, sliding her hands down over his back and then up under his shirt. He inhaled sharply, feeling the jolt of his nerves coming alive.

And then she was pulling him by the shirt toward her room. The door closed, and she was peeling off his shirt, kissing his chest and flicking her tongue over one of his nipples while stripping off her leggings. The same insistent hunger raced through him. Sigrid knelt in front of him, kissing his thighs through his jeans, now unbuttoning them.

James closed his eyes and groaned. She nuzzled his inner thigh and he ran his fingers through her hair. Sig slowly pulled down his jeans and boxers, kissing the bare skin of his thighs and the lower part of his stomach. He gasped as she started to stroke his straining cock, his precum leaking freely and lubricating his shaft. He watched, rapt. Then she looked up at him and licked up the underside of his shaft before taking him in her mouth.

He grunted, listening to his own panting breaths and could feel his body start to press toward release. He needed to breathe a minute, to stop and relax. Then he felt a sharp sting of cold on the sensitive skin of his stomach. Five, ten, then fifteen minutes of bringing him so close to coming only to send him back. Now he could feel her nose brush the hair above his cock, her tongue pulling him.

Sigrid’s hand trailed down his hip and away from him. Then he felt the vibration of her moan around his cock as she slid two fingers between her legs. She moved her mouth up and down his cock, almost to the point of letting him slip out of her mouth, only to swallow him again, moaning at every pleasure sound he made. She was pumping him with her mouth. He could feel his balls tighten, the impulse to thrust was maddening. He twined his fingers in her hair and came hard, feeling the hot gush of cum fill her mouth and then the pull of her swallowing around his cock.

She released him slowly from her mouth. She stood up and taking his hand, led him to the vicinity of the bed where she bent forward and leaned on her arms, legs open. The deep pink swollen lips of her cunt were wet, ready for him. James stroked up the backs of her legs to squeeze her ass. She moaned, and his cock twitched in response. He pressed his cock against her and she purred and rubbed her soaking pussy against him.

Sliding into her, he marveled how anyone so skilled with ice magic could be so hot inside. Pulling her hips toward him, he started to build a rhythm. Having just come, it was much easier to fulfill her desires for more, faster.

* * *

“God, like that!” Sigrid arched her back, pressing back against James and turned her head. The first time had been the quick rut they’d both needed, but this time was satisfying a smoldering desire she’d put off for too long. Opening her eyes, she watched herself and James in the mirror on the back of the door. Feeling him inside her and seeing it at the same time, seeing the taut muscles of his back, thighs, and arms clench and strain fed her craving for physical connection.

Just as she was about to close her eyes again to let the pleasure wash over her she saw light at the edge of the door. That wouldn’t be unusual if the door were open, but they’d closed it behind them. And then she saw the glint of eyes. No sign of motion, but they were definitely being watched.

Looking into the hallway shadow, she moaned. “Please, I want to see you.”

James stopped and kissed her back, withdrawing to help her turn over. She draped her legs over his shoulders so the angles would feel similar, looked up into his eyes, and brushed her fingers over the lines of his cybernetic arm. And whispered in Russian to him, “Show me what you can do, handsome.”

He leaned down to kiss her, pushing in deep and holding himself there while they kissed. He bit her lip and pulled on it, pulling back until she hissed and bit him back. He smiled wickedly and started thrusting slowly again, hands on her hips guiding their motion. She groaned and closed her eyes. Arching her back and moving against him, she turned her head to look in the doorway again. The door was open only slightly more, but she could see a blue eye and line of blonde hair in the darkness.

She gasped and bit her lip, moving a hand between her legs. Sliding her fingers over and around her clit expertly. Her pulse throbbing in her neck, she clenched the blankets in her other hand. God, Rogers was watching… _Pure, wholesome Steve Rogers watching his best friend fuck…_ The thrill shot down her spine and between her legs and she cried out, coming and riding the aftershocks.

The sudden, fierce squeeze of her muscles on James’ cock sent him over the edge just a moment later. They collapsed together, sweaty and satisfied. Her eyes felt very heavy, body languid. James’ eyes were closed, and he rubbed her back.

A tentative knock on the door. Then a cough. “Um… Waiting on you…” Steve’s voice trailed off, “in the kitchen.”

“Shower, JB?”

He peeled his eyes open, clearly adverse to any plan involving motion. She climbed over him and made her way to the bathroom, stopping to look over her shoulder. He had rolled over to his side to watch her walk. “You go first. I’ll wait… Fewer distractions that way.”

Sigrid brought her large comb into the shower and combed conditioner through to detangle her hair. Washing carefully. The languid feeling of warmth and well-being permeated to the bones. The hot water helped relax away the last vestiges of tension.

Steamy and clean, she returned and woke up James, only needing to zap the toasty warm arch of his foot once with her icy fingers before he was out of bed. She slipped on some men’s pajamas and padded out to the kitchen, closing the door behind her. Partly, Sig wanted to know if Steve was going to admit anything and partly because now she was starving and planned to eat both her sandwich and James’.

Entering the kitchen, she saw Steve sitting in one of the chairs in the living room’s conversation pit. _‘Highly underrated architectural feature,’_ Stark had said. He had his eyes closed, leaning his head back on the headrest, his forehead creased.

“Brooding?” Her hair was damp, and the steamy air around her smelled of soap and almond-scented shampoo. She wore a pair of silk striped plum-colored men’s pajamas.  
Steve’s eyes opened. He looked weary, “It’s been a long day.”

She agreed. “I’d get you a beer or something, but you’re going to be driving.” Silence. “JB’s getting ready, so you guys should be able to get going soon. Hot chocolate maybe? In a to-go cup?”

She drifted back to the kitchen and started to heat the milk for the cocoa. Steve walked over, standing a little bit too close. “What are you doing?” The blue of his eyes so intense…

“Making cocoa.”

“I didn’t say I wanted it.”

“You’re not the only one capable of enjoying a delicious, warm chocolatey beverage.” Now that she was looking, the pupils of his eyes were slightly dilated, a slight flush over his cheeks and down his neck. “If you’d like some, the offer’s still open. Do you always make it difficult for people to do nice things for you, or is it just me?” She smiled a little and peeked at him out of the corner of her eye.

“Just you.”

“Liar.” She stirred in vanilla and the powdered chocolate. Tasting, then added some more chocolate.

Satisfied, Sigrid searched the cupboards for a travel cup and found a mug too. She poured hers first then filled the travel cup and handed it to Steve.

“This the consolation prize?” a bitter note crept into his voice.

She thought for a moment, then said, “That means there’s some reason to feel sorry for you and I don’t think there is. But, I do think you need something warm for the ride home.”  
He tasted the drink carefully. “Not bad.”

“Don’t need to look so surprised. I’ve been around a while – I can make cocoa.”

James came into the room dressed and ready with his duffle bag. “Hot chocolate? Where’s mine?”

“Sorry, you snooze, you lose JB.” Sigrid teased.

Turning toward Steve, James said, “Consolation prize, huh?”  
Steve looked up at her with the ‘see?!’ look. Sigrid winked and smiled at him, shrugging. Ignoring James’ not very subtle gloating expression, Steve asked Sig “How long’ll you be up here?”

“Just until tomorrow. I’m taking the bus back to the city tomorrow.” She exchanged numbers with both of them. “Tuesday sound good for training?”

“Sure, I’ll send you the details.”

A hug and disappointingly chaste kiss from James later and they were gone, and she was on her own again.


	9. The Plot Thickens

The first Sunday of December. That night, Sigrid went back to her apartment in the South Bronx in the wee hours of the morning. A fourth-floor walk-up. The halls had flickering light bulbs and the stairwells smelled like anything that could come out of a person had – on a semi-frequent basis. 

Sigrid’s apartment was more like a walk-in closet with a bathroom and a small refrigerator. She flicked on the lights. “I’m home.” She expected and received no response. She’d also not gotten any calls or messages all day – not that she’d really expected to, but she’d hoped so anyway.

She sat in the only chair, looking out through the bars on her window to watch the people on the street. Their lives so short. Two drunks fought over a bottle wrapped in brown paper until it fell and broke. Then as she watched they pooled their cash to buy another – friends again. Strange and sad. Sigrid squashed a bug that came to investigate her, antennae twitching.

Tomorrow she’d be back to work at the restaurant and her moonlighting job as one of Santa’s helpers at the ice skating rink. Sig rested her forehead on the cold glass. The more people you knew, the more people caught on when you don’t age as quickly as everyone else. The best she could figure was an approximate 40:1 ratio.

Still, it was exciting to work with people who were different too in some of the ways she differed from others. Because it was fun she got carried away and started hoping. Not that she regretted agreeing to work with SHIELD occasionally, not at all. She just wasn’t cut out for the constant demands being a true agent entailed.

She sighed and got a beer from the fridge and a bowl of Cheez-Its, pulled down her murphy bed and watched a movie about a popular girl who gets killed when she grabs an electrified homecoming crown, then returns as a ghost with a mission to make the least popular girl at her high school prom queen. Then she’ll go to heaven. Terrible, but she watched it anyway – so far from her own experiences that it was kind of funny.

Sigrid fell asleep in her clothes, the bowl of crackers still curled in her arm. She woke to her alarm. Into her elf costume, with her change of clothes and restaurant work shirt packed into her backpack. Combing her hair always took the longest and this place required ‘cute’ hairstyles. Today, this translated into a braid on each side of her head coiled up into side buns.

Bus, subway to Central Park and a long morning of trying to pull off the pretense of a sunny disposition. Without coffee because the can in her cupboard had been empty when she opened it. She got to hand out the candy canes, which was apparently a coveted position amongst the other elves.  
After an hour and a half, Santa got a break, so only the bouncer elves had to guard the line and Santa’s chair. From behind a large cellophane wrapped candy prop, she checked her phone. Three texts.

One from Loki – 'Crisis averted. Interesting news. Call you later.' _Hmm…_ Well, that could mean a lot of different things, but things are ok and he’ll explain later. Cool. Was that going to mean she needed to explain JB? _Hmmm…_

‘Cool – ttyl.’

One from James – 'Hey, busy later?' Always the romantic, I guess. _What did you expect when you acted that way?_ On the other hand, she was probably overthinking. And really, if she was honest with herself - no regrets.

‘Not sure – whaddya thinkin?’

And one from Steve – 'Where are you?' _WTF dude? What do you care as long as I show up at your smelly gym?_ Not that she knew for sure it was stinky, but it was a reasonable assumption.

‘Working.’

She was almost wishing she smoked so she had something else to do other than stare at her phone.

‘In the park? Thought I saw you during my jog.’ Rogers… Don’t you have better things to do like saving our democracy or teaching orphans baseball or something? Wait… She looked up and around at the people she could see… Noooo…

A fellow elf peeked over her shoulder, “Got any mints? Oooo! Who’s Steve? Anybody special?”

“I’ve just got gum. Uh… he’s a guy I know from one of my other jobs.” True fact. 

‘Yes – how’s the stalking going?’

The girl, Stephanie(?), said “Hey we’ve gotta wrap it up – the kids are gettin’ crazy.”

She put her phone away in her locker and went back to work. Now it was her turn to take the photos of the little darlings. By the time her next break rolled around, she had a stabbing headache behind her right eye and she could feel her ‘jolly’ slipping.

Three and a half hours of her five-hour shift over. She sat down on a folding chair behind the large fake candy she’d hid behind before. She extracted her phone from her locker and checked for messages. Nothing from Loki, not a surprise, it was the middle of the night in Norway right now.

From James – 'Bet we can come up with something. ;) Pizza and a movie?' Winky faces from the Winter Soldier. _Dear Diary, I never thought it'd happen to me...._

From behind her, she felt a touch on her arm and she nearly slugged the person behind her before remembering that she was in her elf costume.

“Woah, just thought you could use this.” Steve handed her a large cup of coffee.

She sipped. Not too hot. Then took a long drink, closed her eyes a second. Just holding the coffee helped her feel better. “Thanks.” She smiled, teasing, “You’re saving lives here, Rogers.”

“I wouldn’t have pictured you as being elf material.”

Pointing a thumb at herself, “Full of surprises.”

Rogers looked her over. “Certainly very festive.” He hid a smile, pretending to itch his nose.

She stood up again, drinking the coffee quickly. In a lower voice, so she wouldn’t be overheard by errant children, “Merry too, motherfucker.”

He looked scandalized. “Language, Miss Elf!”

She winked. “I’m here nine to two Monday, Wednesday, and Fridays until Christmas. Gotta get back now though. See ya tomorrow.”

Back in front, she had the worst job – trying to coax the kids onto Santa’s lap and get them to smile. The coffee helped both her headache and attitude, though.

Two hours later, sweet freedom!

She texted James back, ‘could do dinner after work @ 11p’

‘Call in sick.’

‘Can’t – gotta pay rent. :b’

‘Where do you work’

‘Poppy’s Supper Club – see you later’

Work was work. No Loki. Just serving lots of steaks and pork chops. She was getting ready for her break and her manager, Wayne came over, giving her a disapproving look. “You’ve got a visitor.”

“Oh, ok. I’ll go… see.”

She went out back to the alley behind the restaurant and was surprised to see James. He said, “Hi. I brought you dinner.” _Awesome!_ Potential for more than a week of good times. They sat and she ate.

“This is really good!”

“I’ll tell Steve you said so. So, when aren’t you working? I want to see you.”

“Thursday and Friday nights and this week, all day Saturday. Sunday I’ve gotta do some shopping.”

“All right, we can probably make something happen then. Your boss is giving me the evil eye – I better get going.” He gave her a quick kiss good-bye.

Leaving without actually setting up a date wasn’t good though. Sounded a little bit (a lot) to her like a player leaving his options open and trying to keep her interested by leaving everything open-ended. _Probably overthinking._ She finished her dinner and texted Steve.

‘Food was delicious! Didn’t know you could cook’

‘No problem. I figured you’d be hungry. You had a long day.”

Hmmm… Well, this wasn’t a scenario in Miss Manners: casual hookup/potential boyfriend’s best friend (who has said – with actual words – in the past he doesn’t like you) seems more thoughtful than the actual bf candidate.

‘Thanks – totally appreciated! See you tomorrow!’

The next morning, Sigrid woke early to get across town before 8:30. The sign in front stated ‘R SENB G GY ‘ above a steel door and a building without windows at street level. The building looked run down and was losing the war against the handbill crews.

She walked in with her black hoodie, snug yoga pants, and an oversize t-shirt of a unicorn pooping glitter with ‘Surprise!’ written in slick glitter letters across the top. It hadn’t taken as long to get across town at this ungodly hour than she’d expected, so she only saw a guy she thought might be the manager sipping coffee from a thermos and playing a game on his phone.

Since she was early, she figured she’d warm up with some jump rope and put in her head phones to listen to music to keep time. The Black Keys were excellent to jump rope to. She changed up the style of jump between songs, but kept up pretty well.

Taking a break to stretch, she looked up to see Steve had arrived and was attacking a punching bag. She toweled off and got a drink of water. Sigrid walked over and sat on a weight bench nearby. The whole tank top and sweatpants look really worked for him. He radiated determination and intensity. Since he hadn’t looked up, she adjusted the weights and started lifting. After the first couple clinks of the weights settling, he looked over and waved.

She stood up. “Hey, how’s it going?”

“You’re here early.”

Sig shrugged, “Traffic was good. Where do we start?”

“I’ve been thinking about that. Do you have any formal training?”

Sig shook her head. “Just years of fighting for survival off and on.” She looked ashamed, “But mostly I tried to hide.”

“Ok… Well let’s start there. Not hiding… We’ll go through the movements slowly, so we won’t trigger your, um… reflexes.”

They practiced basic punches and kicks for a while and then ended with punching drills on the bags. He watched the locker room while she showered and dressed. Then she waited for him by the water cooler.

Steve approached, hair damp from the shower, blue eyes sparkling. “That went really well, I’m impressed.”

Sig smiled, “Great! So Thursday morning?” She shouldered her bag.

“Well, yeah, but don’t you want breakfast or something?”

Suddenly, she realized how famished she was. “That does sound pretty good. Ok, lead the way.”

>

“It’s a little too far to walk.” He gestured to a large motorcycle, “Hope you don’t mind a ride.”

Sigrid walked around the bike once, then bit her lip and tilted her head to the side and looked up at him. “That’s a sweet ride.” She held her hands behind her back so she wouldn’t caress the chrome. It’d been years since she rode a motorcycle! Then, her mouth getting ahead of her brain, “Can I?”

Steve smiled and shrugged, “Sure,” and tossed her the keys.

As she gave it the little jump to start the motor purring, she forgot her growling stomach because her heart was in her throat with excitement. She gestured up and down the street. “Just a couple times? Please?”

* * *

  


“Please?” The sparkle in her eyes was irresistible. Steve wavered, then smiled and caved. “Sure, go ahead. Helmet!”

She looked good on the bike too, pulling out into traffic slowly, then making a U-turn to come back. Two, three, four times before she stopped in front of him and got off. Her tight jeans hugged her thighs and she wore her leather jacket open.

She whisked off the helmet. Light danced in her eyes. “Wow! Thanks!” She bounced on the balls of her feet and pointed at him. “New favorite Avenger.” Then looking at the sky, “Sorry Clint!” And laughed with joy.

He chuckled, “You ready to go?” 

Sig put the helmet back on and got on behind him with her bag slung across her back, his wedged into a side bag. Steve hadn’t planned any of this – the invitation had just sort of tumbled out of his mouth. She didn’t cling to him, but he felt every time her knees squeezed against his hips as they went around a corner. Her hands usually just resting on his sides, but when he sped up, she curled her arms around him and over his stomach, leaning into the ride.

Steve was both relieved and disappointed when they reached the diner, their breakfast destination. He watched her try to finger comb her hair to detangle and fluff it up after drying in the helmet. Sigrid was interested in Bucky. Very much so, apparently. Girls had always flocked to Bucky and he, Steve, had always been the nice guy, the friend. That was better than being ignored. He tried to be entertaining, tried to let down Girl A gently when Girl B entered the picture for Bucky. That’s what best friends did, right?

 _How much did Bucky like Sigrid?_ Steve couldn’t imagine anyone letting her go if they had a chance together. Those eyes – so expressive. He liked how she always wore her heart on her sleeve too. Funny, smart, determined. Well, either way, she was off limits. Fraternization never worked out well. And right now, she and Bucky had a thing together.

“Gonna stand there all day, Stars and Bars?” Sigrid linked her arm in his and pulled him toward the diner. “I’m starving!”

She was grinning at him, still delighted with the ride. He said, “I should let Bucky know you’re into motorcycles.”

“Let him do his own legwork! It can be our secret until he figures it out.” Sigrid winked at him.

 _Another secret._ Did she know she shattered part of him every time she winked at him? With a deep breath, Steve set that part of himself aside again as he had so many times in the past. He couldn’t help smiling a little though, “No promises.”

He held the door for her. Entering this place always comforted him because going inside was like stepping back in time. The waitresses’ uniforms, the booths, the counter all were more familiar to him than anywhere else he’d found in the city. Steve had accepted waking up in the 21st Century, but this New York still didn’t feel like home. Having Bucky around helped, but they were both different now.

Then he felt a small wet, cold object slide down under the collar of his shirt and slide down his back, snapping him out of his reverie. “What the…?!”

Sigrid took a step back, “Sorry – I borrowed an ice cube. I tried calling you like three times.” The waitress nodded, backing her up. “They’ve got a table for us.”

She walked toward the booth. For a second, he thought she’d take his hand. God, he missed Peggy on days like this. The stab in his chest would go away sooner or later. It always did. He just needed to wait it out.

He walked slowly behind her, one step after another. His feet felt like lead. _Why had he asked her for breakfast? What had he been thinking when he brought her here?_ He slid into the booth and stared at the menu on the table.

He heard Sigrid say something, but it didn’t quite register.

“Steve, are you all right?” The concern in her voice brought him back again.

Steve smiled and tried to laugh it off. “I’m fine. You must’ve hit me harder than I thought.”

Sigrid pressed a cup of coffee into his hands, unconvinced. “If you want to talk about it sometime, I can shut up and listen.”

“I’m fine, really.”

“All right, if you say so.” She relented and changed the subject, “This place is great!”

“Can I take your order?”

Sig answered the waitress, “Chocolate chip pancakes and sausage… And a small orange juice too.”

The waitress looked at him, “Your usual mister?”

Steve nodded, “Thanks.” The waitress turned away, bringing coffee to other tables.

Sigrid looked at him again. “You come here a lot then? This is the Rogers zone?” She paused. “Should I be worried?” Her eyebrows arched.

Steve smiled in spite of himself. “Um… Yes, maybe, and probably not?”

She laughed and they talked. Sigrid didn’t try to direct their conversation to the sore spots he wanted to keep private. He was a little surprised that their morning hadn’t felt awkward at all. Plenty to discuss. The pros and cons of the Rockettes versus the Nutcracker Suite at the ballet, for example.

Then she looked up, smiled, and waved. “Hey, what are you doing here JB?”

“Looking for this guy. You’re a bonus, beautiful.” Bucky sounded more like the confident ladies’ man Steve knew from their youth and less like the reticent, obscured version of himself he’d become since leaving Hydra and Russian intelligence.

Steve’s toast turned from buttery goodness into ash in his mouth. He looked at his plate a moment to collect himself before looking up. “Hey, Buck. How’d you know I was here?”

“Where else do you go when you’re not working, at home, or at the gym?”

Steve knew that Bucky wasn’t trying to make him feel insignificant. _Hey who’s got less of a life than anybody else you know? This guy._

Bucky sat next to Sigrid and put his arm around her shoulders. _C’mon, pull yourself together Steve – or at least keep breathing._

“So, what was it you needed to track me down for?” His voice didn’t sound sulky or jealous. _Good job Rogers._

“Your phone’s been going crazy. Thought it might be something important.” Bucky handed Steve the phone and looked at Sigrid. “Those pancakes have my name on them?”

Steve looked past his phone at Sig. She put her arm between Bucky and her pancakes. “Sorry Soldier, get your own.”

Bucky chuckled and tried to sneak a piece while she drank her coffee. Sigrid leaned an elbow on the guilty hand and pinned it to the table. While Bucky protested, she ate her pancakes. Then she glanced up and caught Steve smiling. Her eyes sparkled. She didn’t let Bucky go until he ordered his own food.

She asked, “So guys, what are you doing for Christmas? Got any plans?”

Bucky scoffed, “Christmas is for kids.”

Sigrid looked at him, incredulous. “You’re telling this to the daughter of Father Frost?”

“You really go in for that _Snegurochka_ stuff?” Bucky laughed and brushed her knuckles with his fingertips.

Steve looked between them, “What’s _Snegurochka?_ ”

Sigrid smiled, “Me!” And then continued, “ _Snegurochka_ is a Russian fairy tale about a Snow Maiden, there’s a lot of versions, but the one most people know now is that she’s the daughter of Father Frost. He’s kind of the Russian version of Santa. She’s forever young and is kind of a mediator between children and her father.”

Bucky added, “It’s what Hydra called Sigrid. She was sort of a ghost story, a fairy tale to them.”

Sigrid’s phone buzzed. She glanced and answered immediately, “Hi! I was starting to think you’d forgotten your friends in the proletariat!”

Bucky took this opportunity to catch up eating his breakfast. Steve drank his coffee and tried not to listen. But from what she’d told him back at the Avengers’ base, she really was the daughter of the Frost King or Father Frost or whatever – at least in a way... He could see that someone who aged so slowly by comparison could be viewed as possessing eternal youth. _Good Lord, she was beautiful...._

“Everything going ok or is it more of a hell in a handbasket kind of thing?” Sig listened for a moment, “Yeah, I’m fine. Just talking with Rogers and JB-

"Yeah, Barnes…

“Nosy much? So, what’s the interesting thing you wanted to tell me?” Her expression changed from teasing and entertained to serious and then bemused. “What?! Are you serious?

She listened. Both he and Bucky were watching her. “So, what does that mean in practical terms?" Another pause. “Well obviously. I meant…

“Yeah. Ok… Yeah that’s probably a good idea to get together someplace else first.

“What?! No way, I’m bringing a date to that. Suitable, my fucking ass!

“No, you don’t!” The voice, male, on the other end had raised his voice enough to be an audible, but unintelligible murmur. “You what?!” Her voice and expression had changed to one of icy calm. Steve lifted his cup from the table, as he could see frost starting to congregate at her fingertips resting on the table. “If you care so much, marry him yourself. It’s legal now and just as politically convenient.

The temperature at their table was starting to drop. Steve could see his breath. “You forbid it!? Really. Fine. Then I won’t go with anyone then. Promise. Oh, sorry – got another call, later!”

Sigrid stabbed at her phone, not explaining anything to either he or Bucky. She drummed her fingers on the table, phone against her ear. The air in their immediate vicinity was warming, but only gradually. Then she smiled, “Aw, Merry Christmas to you too sir!” The frost receded. Sir? “Thanks for saying so anyway.” She laughed.

“So, I need a one-on-one meeting. Yeah in-person would probably be best. Strong possibility. Oh, no… nothing like that.” She blushed.

“Oh, I’m actually having brunch with him and Steve now.” She covered the phone and spoke to Steve and Bucky, “The Director says hi and wishes you a Merry Christmas.” She listened for a second, then added, “And you’re both invited to SHIELD’s holiday party next week. It’s not formal. He’ll forward you the details.”

“Thanks Director. It really means a lot to me. See you later.” She hung up.

He and Bucky looked at her expectantly. Bucky cleared his throat. “So what’s up? Date to what?”

She pressed her lips together. “Stark’s party, but I’ve got to talk Coulson first. Then I promise you guys will be the next to know.”

Her phone buzzed again, and she answered, poking Bucky to let her out of the booth. “Yeah, hi… One second.” She tilted the phone away from her mouth, “My treat Thursday Rogers?” Steve nodded mechanically.

Sorry JB, looks like today’s gonna be meetings and phone calls. I’ll call you when I’m done ok?”

Bucky pulled her arm gently and she lowered her head for a quick kiss. Then she waved and walked out.

Bucky looked at him. “What do you think that’s about?”

Steve shrugged and turned to look at the door where she was exiting. “No idea.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys like this one! Everything's getting more complicated for just about everyone - they just don't know it yet... :D Let me know what you think!


	10. What About Breakfast at Tiffany's?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let the shenanigans and Christmas shopping begin!

Sigrid walked around the city, waiting for the call from Coulson to let her know that he’d arrived in New York. It shouldn’t be too long. She was Loki’s _sister?_ Well,  half-sister. And he was hoping to introduce her to Thor and make an advantageous match between them? Ordering her to drop her existing plans to go with James to Stark’s party so that Loki could escort her like some kind of debutant? _Absolutely fucking not._

Answering her phone call with more pep than she really felt, “Hi Stark, I’d heard something about some kind of shindig. What’s up?”

“Just a little thing I put together every year for a few nearest and dearest. Dressy. Whole gang’s coming. You could even bring Bambi.”

“Bambi’s gotta get his own invite this time.”

“Ouch… Ok.... Moving on to better, badder company?”

“Definitely better.”

“Looking forward to it. Saturday before Christmas. Eight. Avengers Tower. It’s still mine for a while yet, time to party!”

“See you then. I’ll definitely be there.”

Sig took a deep breath. She remembered to call into work and let them know she wouldn’t be coming in tomorrow. She walked and walked, one foot in front of the other, finding herself eventually in front of the New York Public Library. She sat next to one of the lions and called Nat. She was the closest person she had to a sister right now and she needed a female point of view - and some help, if possible.

“Hi Nat, no, no, I’m fine. Listen, are you busy later?”

“You sound serious. Barnes done you wrong?”

“No, it’s worse. I’m probably just overthinking, but can we talk later? If you haven’t left yet for your next mission...”

“No problem. You call Coulson?”

“Yeah. He’s on the way already. I was thinking we could get together after I talk to him.”

“See you then.”

Sigrid felt better gathering some female support into her corner. She also didn’t want Clint to worry about her. No sense getting him mixed up with Loki again and stirring up that hornet’s nest.

Walking, she thought. Loki hadn’t exactly _said_ she was his sister, just implied they were closely related and her mind had filled in the blank. The part that made her so mad was that he’d acted and spoken as though them being related gave him some kind of right to infringe on her freedom. Forbidding her from attending Stark’s party with another date. What he’d meant, of course was that he was trying to forbid her from going without him, but that’s not what she agreed to. She had agreed not to go with a date. Going stag, horns, Loki’s helmet... Well, it was a stretch for a joke. She sighed.

To take her mind off her newfound relations and relations by adoption, she decided to do some Christmas shopping. Let’s see… Clint and his family, something for Coulson, Barnes, Nat. Steve. A host gift for Stark? Good thing she’d been saving her SHIELD paychecks.

Taking the subway to Manhattan, she stopped first at Tiffany – partially to admire the classic jewelry and partially as a nod to Holly Golightly, ‘Nothing very bad could happen to you there, not with those kind men in their nice suits, and that lovely smell of silver….’ Perfect place to start and to change her mood.

She kept her hands behind her. Times having changed, these days it was harder to tell who had money and who didn’t, she still didn’t want to make those precisely polite salespeople nervous. Her favorite this time was a chunky silver chain bracelet with a heart charm. It was something she could wear anywhere with any of her outfits and was beautiful in its simplicity.

After getting a long look at the sparklier cases, she didn’t buy anything, but felt content again. Ready to shop until Coulson arrived. Last stop would be for the good scotch that Nat liked. First, she should shop for the kids, Cooper, Lila, and Nathaniel. She started her actual shopping further from 5th Avenue. There was a section of antique stores with dirty windows, used book stores, and the best miscellanea from the last century and beyond that reminded her of Diagon Alley from Harry Potter. The sort of place where she could fully believe twisting the right brick would lead to a wand shop and a world of wizards and witches.

She found a microscope for Cooper, a rhinestone necklace for Lila to play princess in ( _was she too old for that now?_ ), and a picture book of kittens wearing clothes for Nathaniel. She thought she’d make gingerbread for Clint. In the shop where she found the kitten book, she found a snow globe with an angel inside, but instead of offering glad tidings, the angel had a fierce expression and a sword raised above its head. She liked it, but not so much that she’d pay $200 for it while shopping for other people. She thought about getting it for Coulson, but decided that it might make him feel guilty.

Coulson, Laura, James, Steve, and a host gift for Stark.

Stark’s gift she found while looking in the window of a shop specializing in ‘dark gifts.’ A working clockwork spider the size of her fist with a rounded transparent crystal in its back. More than she wanted to spend, but something she could be fairly sure he didn’t have a dozen of already.

For James, she bought a book of Russian fairy tales with some wonderful woodcut illustrations. She hoped he’d like it. For Laura Barton, she chose two gifts: one totally impractical for the farm, a tiny bottle of excellent French perfume and the other a collection of Meg Ryan rom-coms. Gifts for _her,_ not for the family.

The shop that had Stark’s spider also had a pair of cuff links with a tiny radio transmitter inside. She knew Coulson collected vintage espionage equipment and snapped that up.

That just left Steve. Most things seemed either too impersonal or too intimate. Or assumed that he wanted a bunch of WWII-era memorabilia. Maybe something’d come to her later.

She stopped at the liquor store that she knew had Nat’s scotch. While she was there she found some high proof spiced mead and decided she’d give a couple of bottles of that to Thor as a ‘surprise! we’re related/not related!’ gift. Loki… She was still mad at him. She’d probably eventually forgive him, but that was unlikely at this particular moment. Well, she’d figure out that one too.

She was debating whether to call a cab to get home and drop off her stuff or stop and sit for a moment with a coffee or something when she got Coulson’s call. Off to Strange’s Sanctum. She was starting to wish she hadn’t made so many heavy purchases when a portal surrounded by orange and gold sparks opened in front of her. So thoughtful, Dr. Strange. He wouldn’t expect a gift and already had more than he could use. Banner… He might be disappointed if she got the other Avengers she knew something, but not him. She set her bags and packages down at the foot of a dimly lit staircase.

Yes, Strange would probably be interested in this piece of intelligence. _Good call on meeting place Coulson._

“Good evening Miss Vinter,” said Dr. Strange floating down from the floor above. “Director Coulson is upstairs. Right this way.” Poof! Traveling like that made her slightly nauseous, but it was efficient.

“Sigrid! Are you all right?” Coulson radiated compassion.

“I’m fine, Director.”

A conference table and chairs materialized from thin air. Dr. Strange asked them to sit. “Tea?”

Before she could accept, a cup with matching saucer appeared at her left. Then two biscuits. She’d only been here once before, but it really was fantastic. She didn’t care that he sounded perpetually annoyed. She liked his terse directness. Also, it was fun to decide what he’d teach if he were an instructor at Hogwarts.

“Well, what’s this about, Sigrid?”

“I got a call from Loki this morning.” She paused. Her audience looked at her, serious and focused. “He went through some of the books or documents or something they were able to salvage from Asgard and there’s a strong possibility that he and I are related.”

Silence. Pin-drop silence. “He implied and let me believe that we’re siblings, but he didn’t say that specifically, so I think maybe cousins. Our fathers were brothers maybe? Anyway, he wanted me to meet Thor before Stark’s party on the Saturday before Christmas and…”

Coulson looked at her, disbelieving. “That’s a lot to take in.”

Strange frowned at her, but remained silent.

“I thought it might be a good idea to organize some kind of meet and greet in a neutral place.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quotation from Breakfast at Tiffany's by Truman Capote. I also reference Harry Potter here. Since it's part of our world, it's not a stretch that it'd be a popular part of theirs too. :)


	11. Meanwhile Back at the Deli

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CACW never would have happened if they'd taken a cookie break. <3

That was how she found herself sitting next to Steve Rogers and across from Tony Stark at Ella’s Deli Thursday for a late lunch.

“I said I lied!” Loki said a little louder than he’d meant to, clearly irritated. Sigrid arched her eyebrow and laughed.

Wanda spoke up with her soft Sokovian accent, “Maybe you’ll make an honest man of him?” Thor thumped the table and laughed in approval and the dishes jumped. Napkins wiped up sloshed drinks and focus shifted back to generalities.

Sigrid smiled around the table. “Sorry Wanda, I prefer to date outside my family.” She made an ‘ewww’ face. Most of them, except Loki, looked like she’d just grown a third eye. She’d told Nat about it when they went dress shopping – a very successful venture for both of them. They’d gone out after that and gotten especially drunk that night – or she had anyway. God, that was just two days ago...

She’d called James and they’d met yesterday after she finished her elf duties at the park and she’d told him everything then. He’d left the coffee shop abruptly and hadn’t spoken to her since. The Rockettes’ Holiday Spectacular was tomorrow night, but she didn’t know if they were really on or not.

After that warm reception, she’d asked Steve if he minded waiting to hear her news until after their gym session this morning. And here they were.

“Am I missing something?” Banner asked, looking slightly mussed as usual and a little puzzled.

Loki hissed, “Cousin, you’re too blunt for our friends.” He was irritated, too bad – this wasn’t how she wanted to spend her Thursday either.

Thor looked between them. Sigrid cleared her throat. Loki looked to Thor and continued, “Apparently the child’s story of the maiden left behind after the battle between the Jotun and the Aesir was based in fact.”

Thor’s brow creased, “The one about the laundress collecting shells on the beach - left behind when the Aesir returned to Asgard with the Bifrost?”

Loki nodded. “Correct.”

Sigrid added, “But she wasn’t careless, she stayed behind-"

“Because she’d conceived a child with a Frost Giant.” Loki finished her sentence.

Thor looked aghast. “I did not know such a thing possible.” He looked at her, “And your mother, where is she now?”

“She died.”

More gently, Thor asked, “How long have you been alone here on Midgard?” Loki hadn’t thought to ask those questions.

“I’ve had companions over the years.” She sounded too defensive in her own ears. Taking a deep breath, she continued, “About 650 years. She died about 650 years ago.”

Steve turned his head and stared. Even Nat’s eyes widened for a second. Not missing a beat, Tony broke in. “This would be the best after school special ever. Somebody has to get in touch with Hollywood! Can I be your agent? I know people!”

Loki frowned and looked at Thor as if to say, ‘told you so,’ “All the more reason you should come to New Asgard so you can be with your family.”

Sigrid straightened, “As I already told you,” _get the bitchy tone out of your voice!_ “I have a home here and I have no desire to run away from it to live with a bunch of strangers.” Loki tried to interrupt her, but she carried on hastily, “Your majesty, have you had an opportunity to review the file?”

Loki looked between her and Thor sharply. Thor nodded, “I have.”

Loki turned to her, starting viciously, “You have no right-“

“I have every right! I was a child!” Sigrid slapped the table, “Unwanted, alone! I survived on my own. I’ve lived and made my own way – thrived even! Your family was kind of fucked up, but you had parents who loved you, a brother who loves you! You have no right to show up now and decide that I’m not good enough as I am.”

Her emotions were getting the better of her and she could feel her throat tighten and her eyes sting as tears formed. Sigrid looked down as the tears started. She expected to hear the same pushy, haughty voice tear into her, but instead, Loki took her hand. “Don’t cry Sigga. I didn’t mean for it to sound like that. I… want to protect you.” Now sounding impatient, “I don’t want you to be alone anymore.”

“So you want to marry me to your adopted brother?!”

Thor’s mouth dropped open, “Loki?”

Loki tried to sound persuasive, “It’d be politically advantageous, you aren’t related to him, and I like you far better than any of the others Thor’s been eyeing.” He held up two fingers on one hand and one finger on the other and mouthed ‘two birds, one stone.’ When Sigrid closed her eyes in annoyance, two more tears fell and he pleaded, “Sigga, please don’t…” His voice gentle, “I’m sorry, it was a bad idea. Don’t cry.”

Thor sat back, stunned. He had to think back and then back farther still to recall a time Loki might have admitted being wrong.

“Here Buttercup.” Tony handed Sigrid a handkerchief and she dried her eyes and wiped her nose.

Sigrid mumbled her thanks. She looked at Loki, the anger and indignation fading from her eyes. Sig touched Loki’s arm, “I don’t want to fight with you, L. Especially during the holidays.” She sniffed and shook her head once, trying to shake off the previous conversation and move on.

She pulled out Thor’s ‘welcome to Earth from your Earth-native subject’ gift. “Sort of a house-warming, welcome to Earth present.”

“Thank you and please stop calling me ‘Your Majesty.’”

She got Loki’s present out, a large circular wrapped package and handed it to him. Then put her hand on his arm before he could unwrap. “I was mad when I made them, so forgive me? They’ll taste fantastic, I promise.”

Looking exceedingly suspicious, Loki began to unwrap his package as Thor pulled the bottles of mead from their festive, but non-denominational gift bag. “Mead? They still make this here?”

“Small batch, 11% alcohol. I hope you like it.”

Thor smiled, “I’ll let you know and please, just let me know when you’d like to visit us in New Asgard. You’re welcome to visit any time, no obligation.”

_Very diplomatic, sire._ “Thanks, I’d like that.”

Meanwhile Loki had unwrapped a large cookie tin and opened it. He stared at its contents for a moment, then held up an immaculately frosted severed gingerbread man’s limb. He cleared his throat, “Are they all like this?”

Sigrid smiled sheepishly, “Um, well I did the arms and legs last, underneath there’s heads and torsos too.” Her eyes widened, “Oh, I forgot! Here, just a second.” She moved some of the gingerbread limbs aside and found what she was looking for. “Don’t peek.”

“Excuse me?”

“Close your eyes, this is the best part!”

Loki closed his eyes, trying to hide his delight with his gift by assuming an air of vague displeasure. “Very well, as you wish.”

Tony muttered to Banner excitedly, “I knew he’d say it!” Elbowing Banner and pumping his fist ‘yes!’

Banner rubbed his arm where Tony elbowed him, “Ow…”

Sigrid pulled out several bamboo skewers and impaled gingerbread heads on them, propping them up in the box with the other frosted gingerbread body parts.

Nat covered her mouth and very nearly laughed out loud. Thor nodded, as if to say ‘Yes, definitely related…. I see it now…’ Steve looked uncertain what to say and settled with a hesitant, “Very well frosted…”

Sigrid looked at Loki, “Ok, open your eyes!”

Loki looked at the little group of rather gruesomely decorated gingerbread heads impaled on their little spikes. It seemed like everyone was holding their breath. Thor watched Sigrid and Loki intently.

Loki’s face twisted, trying with difficulty not to smile or laugh. “They really are rather clever.” He looked at Sigrid. “You made these for me?” She nodded, eyes shining with excitement. “They’re edible?”

“Yeah, great with coffee. Or vanilla shakes, but let’s not go there.” She smiled.

“Thor will kill you if you poison me.” Loki said pleasantly.

Sigrid rolled her eyes. “They aren’t poisoned! And if you fake it, I’ll never bake for you again as long as I live.” He took a bite. She added, “Never ever.”

“Mmmm. These are delicious.” He took two more, but a calculating look had come into his eyes.

Sig whispered in his ear, “I’d bake Thor’s favorites for him, but never anything for you as loooong as I live.” Loki looked at her sharply.

In reply to his pointed gaze, she said, “I mean it. I’m very stubborn.”

After eating the first three fastidiously, he took another handful, and asked the waitress for a cup of coffee and a glass of milk. “I’d never do something so childish,” he said trying to keep a straight face.

Sigrid looked at Thor and raised an eyebrow and Thor laughed. Loki huffed, but was too pleased with the cookies to be upset that he hadn’t gotten his way at all today.

“So, you like them?”

After eating cookie number 6 in precise, neat bites and sipping his coffee, he replied, “Absolutely wonderful.” He sniffed haughtily, “Of course being exceptional runs in the family.”

“Don’t eat too many at once or you’ll get sick.”

Tony looked across the table at her, “Exceptional, my ass. That was amazing Princess. Bravo!”

“What?”

“How you just sort of…” Tony waved his hands and fluttered his fingers energetically, “manage the mischief, so to speak.”

Loki looked at her with a ‘should I be annoyed?’ expression and she explained, “Harry Potter reference… So, Stark, what’s with Buttercup?”

Stark nodded toward Loki. “Wesley? Dread Pirate Roberts? ‘As you wish?’” He pointed at her blonde locks. “Buttercup.” He pointed at Thor. “Point Break…” then sounding disappointed, “Well, not so much anymore…” Gesturing to Loki, “Rock of Ages. Or Reindeer Games. Sometimes Bambi. That hat you know? What’s up with that?” Across at Steve, “Capsicle, Spangly, Gramps.”

Sigrid nodded, “I like Stars and Stripes, myself.” She winked at Steve to let him know she wasn’t trying to be mean.

Steve mumbled, “It’s not annoying when _you_ say it.”

She looked at Steve. He’d been really quiet all morning. She hoped he wasn’t going to give her the cold shoulder too. Ugh… He’d probably already talked to James…

The conversation turned to generalities. She wasn’t paying as much attention as she probably should, but she’d had a stressful couple of days. Sigrid agreed to make her entrance into Tony’s party with the Odinson brothers as long as she arrived at the party on her own. “Wait for me at the top of the stairs or whatever.”

Loki, full of cookies looked at her lazily, scoffing, “You want us to be seen waiting for you?”

“Well then don’t, I’ll just go by myself.”

Loki looked at her severely, “You promised you wouldn’t go if –“

“I promised I wouldn’t go with someone else.”

Thor’s eyes twinkled, it wasn’t often someone tripped up Loki with words.

Eyes narrowing, Loki glared at her, “You little…”

“Imp? I prefer the term ‘pixie.’” She smiled at Loki. “I don’t make promises lightly.” Seeing the sour mood was sticking, she offered him another small box. “And I didn’t make these, but they’re the best and you deserve them for being so protective and because I do like you and really don’t want to fight.”

He opened the box to find four macarons. “You expect to bribe me with confections?”

“Yes?” She pointed, “Strawberry, chocolate, hazelnut, and orange.” Smiling mischievously, “If you don’t forgive me, you’ll get fat.”

Giving the chocolate one a test nibble, Loki closed his eyes with pleasure. “Absolutely divine… Done.”

Thor blinked in amazement. “You’re forgiving her for tricking you just like that?” Astonished, “No stabbing?”

Languidly, taking tiny bites to make the confection last longer, Loki waved his hand carelessly, “You’ve seen her file. No stabbing.” Sighing with satisfaction, “She’s witty, clever, resourceful, and a connoisseur of sweets – why would I stab her?”

Thor, still disbelieving – so much so that Sig worried his eye patch might pop off – exclaimed, “She just bribed you with cookies!”

Loki shrugged carelessly, “She knows her audience.”

She kissed Loki on the cheek. “You’re my favorite cousin.”

Seeing how pleased Loki looked, Tony rolled his eyes, muttering Princess Bride references.

Just then, Nat leaned in a bit, “Hey kid, anything in that bag for me?”

Sig blinked, “Oh yeah! I might have a little something for you. You’re on my nice list, no severed heads.” She grinned and handed the bottle of scotch across the table with a ribbon tied around its neck.

“Aw, you remembered. Thanks Sig!”

She handed Bruce a present. He fingered it tentatively, “I don’t celebrate Christmas.”

“Then it can be an unbirthday present. Open it!”

Banner unwrapped carefully and was taking long enough that Tony started trying to rile Steve again. “So Cap, dreaming of a white Christmas? Getting Sharon Carter under the mistletoe?” Tony waggled his eyebrows.

“Shut up Tony.”

Nat interrupted, “I think it’s going to be too warm for snow this year anyway. The only snow in town is the snow machine stuff by the skating pond in the park.” Sig understood and appreciated this as a conversational diversion tactic.

Finally, Bruce unwrapped his gift revealing a framed print of ‘Our Friend the Atom’ winking and strutting across the page, cheerful electrons swirling around him. Banner was quiet for a moment, then chuckled. “This is great! Where did you get this?”

Sig smiled, “At a used bookstore I go to. They had a lunch box too, but I didn’t think anybody’d want to use that…”

She gave Tony his present, which he tore open, slowing down after the wrapping, finding the box to be velvet, but too large to be jewelry. “You shouldn’t have, Princess.” Then he opened it and started exclaiming “Oh my god, does this work? It works! Look! It’s moving!” and on and on.

Her phone rang, and she moved past the SHIELD agents she’d forgotten about to take her call outside. “Hello? JB?”

“Hi…”

Maybe if she just ignored his tone of voice he’d stop giving the speech he’d prepared.

“We still on for tomorrow night? Dinner downtown, the Rockettes?” Her cheerfulness wasn’t too forced.

“I can’t… I can’t… do this… I can’t see you anymore.” Her stomach sank, and she regretted eating all those fries and finishing her shake and part of Loki’s. James went on, “People wouldn’t understand. They’d just see you’re related to Loki and assume the worst… of both of us.”

“Oh.”

“I’m sorry, I think you’re great.”

_Great?! Swell. ‘Maybe we can still be friends?’ ‘It’s not you, it’s me?’ Slippery motherfucker, if you say that I’m going to scream!_ Her throat made a strange sound that combined a conversational ‘mhm’ with the click throats make when trying not to cry.

“I wish things could be different.”

“M-hm.”

“See you around.”

She hung up and covered her face with her hand, taking a few deep breaths. She called Coulson. Another relevant update – fantastic.

He answered, “Everything going all right?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine with Loki and Thor.”

“Then why do you sound so…”

“Barnes doesn't want to see me anymore.”

“Ah. I’m sorry to hear that. Did he give you a reason?”

“His reputation is more important to him. I get it. I do.” She laughed sadly, “I don’t know if it’s better than him hating me because of my relatives or not.”

“I’m sorry it didn’t work out Sigrid.”

“Thanks.” Her eyes prickled, threatening tears. She looked up, trying to keep them at bay. “Thank you. Everyone’s still here, I’ve gotta go back in. Talk to you soon.”

* * *

Inside, Steve watched Sigrid leave to take her call. He hadn’t seen the caller ID, but the expression on her face when she’d looked, limited the possibilities. Hope combined with dread. Bucky. He’d tried to talk to Bucky about it, to try to talk him out of making any hasty decisions.

Bucky had insisted, though, since there would be photographers at Stark’s party and Loki wanting to make an entrance with her – or somehow making it known they were connected. His reputation was so fragile, it might not survive intact if the press spun it the wrong way. He didn’t particularly enjoy cryo-stasis and didn’t want to go back if he could avoid it.

Steve couldn’t really blame him for that rationale, but the news cycle was so short these days that it’d probably blow over before too long. And she was so sincere that the press probably wouldn’t hold her cousin against her for too long, if they did at all.

“But what if something happened and she lost it?” Bucky had said pacing, “What if all the things you told me – all those worst-case scenarios – came true?”

Steve had felt sick. This was _his_ fault. He had tried to act naturally during their training session that morning, but he was pretty sure she’d noticed he wasn’t as relaxed as the last time. She had her back turned, but her shoulders were taut.

Natasha kicked him in the shin and he looked toward the group again. Maybe she hadn’t kicked him on purpose? No, they were still talking about ideal Christmases and best gifts received.

“So, Cap, how would you spend your ideal Christmas?” Natasha asked. “Fighting Nazis?”

He thought about it and imagined being indoors with a fireplace burning low, snow blowing outside, snuggled under a blanket with someone special (he refused to add a face). Smells of eggnog, vanilla, and pine. No gifts necessary. His mouth went dry and an ache radiated from his chest out toward his limbs.

Instead he shrugged and forced a smile, “Who wouldn’t want to jump out of planes and fight Nazis on Christmas?”

He heard her reenter the restaurant. The deli. He had to stop calling these places lunch counters. Nobody knew what he was talking about. She sat back down. Sadness clung to her and as he watched, she shrugged it off as though taking off a coat.

“I’d do that, but after presents.” She grinned. Her smile almost reflected in her eyes.

Sigrid handed Wanda a gift, which when unwrapped revealed a hooded, red velvet cloak. “This is beautiful!”

“When Nat said you didn’t have one yet, I couldn’t resist.” Smile, eyes twinkling.

Tony interrupted impatiently, “I want to see what you got for Capsicle.”

Sigrid looked at him, eyes unreadable. “He needs to wait until tomorrow.”

Natasha saved him momentarily from responding, or maybe she was throwing Sigrid a lifeline, “So, Sig, you gonna help me test this later?” shaking her bottle.

She half-laughed. “Maybe so, Nat. What a day. It might even be a K-day.”

Natasha’s eyes widened slightly. “I see.”

Sigrid looked at him, eyes fastened on his. “Are you and I still on for tomorrow?”

So, Bucky really had cancelled on their group trip, the three of them tomorrow, their Christmas in New York outing. Steve had been trying very hard not to think about it as a date since he and Bucky had planned it Tuesday night. Did this mean she was still planning to go? Or just that she’d planned to give him his gift then?

Then he realized that there were three tickets and three semi-related Asgardians in their group. Maybe she’d like to take them instead of thinking about the not-a-date they were supposed to have with Bucky.

“Can I talk to you about that?”

Her face went expressionless, voice crisp, “Sure Rogers, step into my office.” She stood and walked back outside.

He followed, ignoring the stares and glares of everyone else. As the door closed, she turned and looked at him, eyes flat. “Well?”

“I had an idea that since there’s three tickets, you might want to take Loki and Thor to the show.” He handed her the tickets.

When he managed to make eye contact, though, Steve knew he’d made a mistake. Sigrid’s face was poker-faced like she was going into battle. This wasn’t bake some severed limb cookies angry, this was absolutely livid, her gaze searing.

“That _is_ an idea. Thanks Rogers.” She laughed without amusement. “Guess you got your wish today too. I’m out of Barnes’ life and if I could be, I’d be out of yours too.”

Steve opened his mouth to try to add that he hadn’t thought she’d mind since she had wanted to see The Nutcracker anyway. That they could go to that instead – he’d already bought tickets. His voice made a sound.

Sigrid glared. “Fuck off Rogers.”

He tried to put his hand on her arm to stop her from leaving and she countered with a punch to his shoulder that made him realize how much she held back in their training sessions. Peeling himself out of the now dented SHIELD SUV she’d knocked him into, he realized her blow had dislocated his shoulder.

The SHIELD agents had come to life and were trying to figure out what to do.

“No one touches me without my permission Rogers. Fuck. Off.”

He stared as she stalked down the block. His voice came back, “Sigrid, wait! That’s not what I meant!”

She didn’t turn around. The others came out though, to gloat maybe, or survey the dent in the SUV.

Tony looked at the ice blonde head bobbing, nearly out of sight. “Smooth, Gramps.” Tony’s driver pulled up at the curb and he left.

Natasha offered to help him with his shoulder, which he was grateful for until she wrenched his arm hard to pop the joint back into alignment hard enough for him to see stars. “Ow, Nat!”

“You fucked up, Rogers. Way to go.” Natasha said good-bye to everyone else and left with Wanda, who also looked at him and shook her head.

Loki looked at him as though he were an insect. Leaning forward, Loki hissed, “Be grateful she’s not my sister, Rogers.” Thor propelled Loki away with a strong hand on his brother’s shoulder.

Banner stood next to him, marveling, “Wow, I thought I got mad…”


	12. Lemons into Lemonade - or Karaoke Makes the World Go Round

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well.. some situations call for karaoke instead of cookies.

Nat caught up to Sigrid later that evening. Sig had been grateful for the solitude. This past week, she’d started thinking that Rogers was her friend. That they were getting along. Apparently not. Had he talked James into breaking up with her? _Steve wouldn’t do that._ It was when she thought of him as Steve, not ‘Rogers,’ that the tears started.

She spent the remainder of her afternoon curled in a ball on her bed, crying off and on. She fell asleep and woke up feeling more tired out than when she’d fallen asleep. Washing her face helped. She changed into one of her favorite outfits that she rarely wore because she felt it attracted too much attention: black plaid miniskirt with narrow buckles across the front and a ripped red t-shirt with the title font of Ian Fleming’s _Live and Let Die._ She wore these with a pair of thigh-highs, leather jacket, and a pair of high heeled platform boots with a lot of extra straps and buckles. Wearing these boots put her over six feet tall. She even decided to put on some makeup: blending dusty violet with gunmetal metallic eye shadow. A little liquid eyeliner, some tinted lip gloss – ready to roll.

As she was ready to go, she got a text from Nat, ‘Ready to go?’

‘spying on me again?’

‘pretty much, ready?’

‘lets motor – *so* ready’

‘out front’

Sigrid met Nat in front of her building. She got on the motorcycle behind Natasha and they were off. After the first few lights, Nat spoke over her shoulder, “Couple people might meet us there.”

They went to the same place they’d gone to last time they’d needed a K-day: Karaoke Kavern. Restaurant on top serving awesome Korean food and a speak easy style downstairs karaoke lounge with private karaoke rooms radiating from a central bar and stage for the bold or very drunk.

She waved at Wanda and they sat and ate. Wanda looked at her quizzically, “So what happened?”

“JB broke up with me.”

Natasha nodded, “Barnes is an idiot.”

Sigrid explained, “James, Steve, and I were going to go out for dinner and then see the Rockettes tomorrow night. Sort of a group Christmas thing.”

A look of dawning indignation spread across Wanda’s face, “ _Steve_ cancelled? I’m not you and I’m angry.”

Sigrid sighed and sipped her Asahi, “Yeah, he had an _idea_ that I should take my _family_ out on the town instead. Since there are three tickets and all.” Her expression darkened. “Asshat.” She ate another small Korean taco.

Natasha rubbed her forehead. “God, what an idiot… I’m sure he didn’t mean it the way it sounded, Sig.”

“Don’t care. Moving on.”

They enjoyed their food and vented for a while about how oblivious their coworkers were and how they could be so dumb sometimes. Then made their way down to the bar. Somehow, people’s eyes focused on the 6’1” punk girl and less on the more famous, but more conventionally dressed Wanda and Natasha.

“You’re turning heads, Sig.” Nat commented.

“What’s the use of keeping legs like these covered up all the time?” Sigrid smiled. “That’s just a waste of resources!” They laughed and ordered a pitcher of something called Pirate Jack (Honey Jack, Baileys, Absolut Vanilla, and Rum Raisin) and brought it to the room they’d reserved.

They drank and sang angry songs, punk songs. After half a pitcher, they were all in a much better mood. Not being human had the disadvantage of making it more difficult to get a buzz, but drinking with friends made her seem like less of a lush even though she drank more than they did.

After an hour, Natasha went on a scouting expedition for more drinks. Sigrid had just about attained the elusive buzz, the pleasant tingle and warmth of alcohol starting to make itself known in her fingers and toes. She stepped out for a quick jaunt to the ladies and on her way back noticed Natasha talking with a couple of guys.

Sig walked over, “Hey _sestra,_ these guys bothering you?”

Nat laughed, “Nah, somebody’s nervous about a few girls having a night out. It’s not even eleven yet, guys.”

Sigrid got a better look and they both looked familiar. “I’m sorry, have we met?”

One chuckled and flashed her a smile, “Thought that was my line. Scott Lang.”

She smiled and held up her fingers in a square, “There’s the frame of reference!” She held back a giggle and pointed at the other guy. “You’re Sam Wilson.” She looked between them, “Scouting expedition, huh? Trying to figure out if we’re having too much fun or something?”

When neither of them looked her in the eye right away, Sigrid sighed. “Dude, not cool! Our drinks are on your tab now. Roshambo for it amongst yourselves.” She waved her hand in a gesture she’d picked up from Loki.

She and Nat departed back to the room where Wanda was waiting. Natasha said, “Unavoidably detained.”

Sig explained to Wanda what had happened. They discussed and decided they’d rather have party crashers than spies and Sig went to invite them in.

She walked over to the bar and leaned forward on it, skirt riding up. _Ah, Mr. Lang, you don’t disappoint._ Totally checking her out. “Hey guys, if you’re joining us, we’ll need another pitcher.”

“Do you know what those cost?” stammered Wilson. _Ladies and gentlemen, we’ve found out who’s paying the tab._

She added, “And you’ve gotta sing – at least one. Sing-along doesn’t count – everybody does that.”

They started to discuss/argue and she straightened up and stood next to Lang, “Lucky number seven.” Sig pointed to their room and made her way back to their private room, giving her walk more shake than was absolutely necessary.

On her way though, she could hear them arguing over the din of the person on stage slaughtering ‘Don’t Stop Believin’.’ She smiled.

“Mission accomplished!”

They drank and selected some more songs. After the next few rounds, their group loosened up, though she noticed Nat was nursing her drinks. But she was having fun. Now that she’d lured Lang and Wilson, she didn’t intend to do much more flirting.

At a certain point, she may have sung more than one song by Taylor Swift. There may have been Adele. Blondie. Madonna. Kelly Clarkson. That was before the Christmas songs…. She cracked an eye open and looked around. An unfamiliar living room, she stood. A dull ache behind her eyes and at her temples, but overall, she didn’t feel too hungover.

Sigrid walked over to the window, the height of the building with the modern minimalist aesthetic led her to believe that this was probably some kind of living space in Avengers Tower. She sent Loki a text to see if he and Thor would like to see the Rockettes and then looked for the bathroom.

She washed her face and then decided taking a shower would make it easier to comb her hair, what with conditioner and all. She stripped and stepped into the shower. She opened one shampoo and then another standing under the hot water. The third smelled like oranges and cinnamon – a nice surprise – and she chose that one, relaxing under the steady beat of the water.

As she was scrubbing her back, she heard voices. Rinsing quickly, she stepped out and had just realized there were no towels when the door swung open. Steve stood there, shield raised – clearly, he’d hadn’t expected anyone else to be here.

He stared and relaxed a bit, “What are you doing here?”

“I’m not 100% on that, but how about you beat feet and find a towel for me?”

He blushed and closed the door. She combed her wet hair.

Knock, knock. “Sorry, there’s just a few kitchen towels.”

“Well, whatever. Hand them over.”

None of this seemed odd until she was partway into a very passionate kiss with Steve and felt that her neck was in a strange position and as much as she changed positions, she couldn’t get comfortable.

Then she woke up in her own bed in her own apartment. Much less awkward, but not entirely satisfactory either. Sig didn’t have many of those kind of dreams. She sighed and took a real-life shower with her own shampoo. Detangled her hair with her own conditioner. _Humph._

Sigrid texted Loki in real life to see if he and Thor would like to have dinner and see the Rockettes. She had picked up a double shift at the restaurant Saturday and a lunch shift today, so they wouldn’t fire her.

She dragged her feet getting ready, so she had to rush on her way to work. Fortunately, her shift was mostly uneventful except for running out of navy bean soup. The old guys who were the regulars at lunch probably didn’t need it anyway.

As she left work to get her nails done, figuring she’d go to the show whether or not anyone was going to go with her. She already had the dress and shoes after all. While she was in the salon she heard back from Loki. They were both going to have dinner with her, but wanted to know more about the show before committing.

That was fair she supposed. Sigrid couldn’t imagine Loki enjoying the Rockettes’ Holiday Spectacular since it was pretty much a tribute to the most sentimental parts of Christmas. Women doing high kicks and a variety of sometimes skimpy outfits might appeal though. Hard to say.

Dinner was at a restaurant called Nick’s. Sigrid left her coat at the coat check and felt pretty confident in her midnight blue metallic silk shift dress. The gold Gucci open-toe platform sandals gave her an extra three inches too. Almost everyone in the bar area noticed her, nice when feeling unwanted in general.

Sigrid sipped a gin and tonic and relaxed while waiting for Loki and Thor. At a table for two in the restaurant area, she noticed a familiar mane of brown hair. _Well that takes a lot of nerve._ James sat across from a different blonde with smooth, straight hair and respectable black cocktail dress, tasteful gold ladies watch on her wrist.

Sig recognized the woman as another SHIELD agent, Sharon Carter. Sharon had always seemed nice enough, though she thought that Steve liked her and wondered why his best friend would take her out on a dinner date. _Maybe it’s a work thing._ She sighed. _Not my problem…_

Sigrid noticed some Wall Street type trying to get her attention and she put on her best unapproachable, ‘too hot for you’ look and sipped her drink. Thor and Loki’s arrival caused a stir and a few bold selfie-taking women crowded around Thor for a photo op. _Seize the day, I guess..._ Good thing she’d had time to get her makeup done at the MAC counter, though her up-do was starting to get fly-aways as though it wasn’t physically possible for it to stay in place for more than twenty seconds at a time.

Sig stood and walked over and air-kissed them both hello by their cheeks.

Loki examined her outfit. “Stunning, Sigga.”

She smiled, “Thanks. I like your tie pin.” From the times she’d seen him before at the restaurant, Loki always dressed well, but the pin was one she hadn’t seen before, a silver snake with emeralds for eyes. She studied Thor for a moment. “You clean up pretty well, your majesty.”

“I asked you not to…” then realizing she was teasing him by doing specifically what he’d asked her not to do, Thor smiled and said, “As do you.”

Dinner was amazing, and their conversation distracted her for the most part from James and Sharon now being much closer. She did notice though, when Sharon fed him a tiny bite of her dessert. _Really? Is this high school?_ Had they been dating when she hooked up with him last weekend? Had he noticed her there with Thor and Loki? If he did, did he care? _Ugh… JB Barnes, you are the worst ever. Ev-Ar._

Loki followed her eyes. “Hm, that’s awkward.” He leaned closer to her, murmuring, “Shall I kill him for you?”

Sigrid snickered, “No, I’m fine. Just annoyed. Thanks for offering, though.”

“Chill my champagne then?” She held his glass, cupping her palms carefully around the bell, gently chilling the glass and its contents.

She told Thor the story about how she’d met Loki and after a few more people snapped photos, the conversation turned toward celebrity, the press, and diplomatic protocols. Finally, Sig was able to steer the conversation toward the Rockettes’ Holiday Spectacular. Loki pretended that it was only because she had decent seats that he was agreeing to attend.

They went as a group and during the whole car ride, Loki complained about how using his portal magic would be more efficient while Thor made counterpoints about making an effort to fit in on Earth and human customs. Sigrid smiled to herself, listening to them bicker.

“It’s so cute how you guys argue.”

Simultaneously, Thor: “It’s not cute, it’s annoying.” And Loki: “I’m not cute.”

She giggled and they both frowned, their faces taking on twin expressions and she laughed harder. “Adopted or not, you guys are totally brothers.”

Then they argued with her about that – then with themselves. Highly entertaining.

After the show, Sigrid suggested going out for drinks, then realized that most of the places she usually went might not be wise while entertaining foreign dignitaries. “Hmmm… What about the Rose Bar at the Gramercy Park Hotel? That’s pretty upscale, but I’ve heard they have a pool table too.” _And they’re legitimate royalty – that should be good enough for the bouncers, right?_

And it was, with some charm thrown in. While not quite the boozy revel of the previous night, the cocktails were excellent (the rose and lychee martini – divine!) and they were able to play pool. Sigrid demonstrated the game for Loki and Thor by playing a game with a guy who kept looking to see if Sig realized who he was and was continually disappointed because she didn’t squeak in recognition.

Getting home was more of an adventure, but no one was interested in taking selfies with her in the subway (at all, ever). She wondered how Thor could be so nice about it. At least her crappy South Bronx apartment wasn’t up for public inspection. It’d be pretty fucking inconvenient to have to move somewhere nicer. Not many (i.e. zero) apartments in Manhattan under a thousand dollars a month.

Hanging her dress up and washing her face, Sig smiled to herself. It wouldn’t be awful to have a shorter commute and a better view, but paying for the view… Ouch. She sat up for a while in her pajamas in her chair looking out at the street in front of her building. The light dusting of snow from earlier in the week had melted, making the mushy discarded paper and other refuse visible. She sighed and went to bed.

No steamy dreams. Just the jolt of realization that she’d be late for work if she didn’t shift it.


	13. Just Like the Ones I Used to Know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve's pity party. Always with the drama S.R. What gives? Thanks to a well-meaning stranger, Christmas shopping, and a loooooot of popcorn, cheer might just be around the bend. Also, more cookies, but none for Clint. (Sad panda).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for keeping up! I can't believe over 800 hits in the last 6(ish) weeks!!! 8o !!! I'm stunned (and very pleased too!!).
> 
> Lyrics from Taylor Swift's "Blank Space" (don't panic - it's not much and hopefully funny). Brief quote from/reference to Terminator 2. Also, I think the New York Post would totally cover Avengers-related gossip. I've tried to use real places where possible to firm up things in my mind and kind of cement them into a "real" world. I don't live in NY, though, so forgive my outsider geography (blame Google Maps!!).

The weekend seemed endless. Since he’d messed things up so badly with Sigrid Thursday afternoon, life hadn’t improved. Sam and Scott had said she seemed fine. Then Bucky’d seen her Friday out with Thor and Loki having a great time. _You know Sharon, right?_ (ha. ha. You know what hasn't improved over the last seventy years, pal? Your jokes.) _I owed her a dinner for helping me get my visa straightened out._ Steve felt like a fool for thinking he’d had anything to do with that. At least Sharon had been embarrassed enough to look away. He’d messed that up too – what could’ve been with her.

Well, if there was anyone that Steve knew who’d be good for Bucky’s reputation, it was Sharon. He vacillated between being angry with himself for being such a blind fool and disappointed with himself for not being a better friend. Sharon had given him plenty of chances, he just hadn’t felt ready yet. Now she’d moved on.

He’d introduced Sharon to Bucky specifically to help with smoothing the political feathers necessary to get Bucky’s visa. He hadn’t known they’d spent so much time getting to know each other. _‘It’s so funny how we ran into each other the other day.’ Please stop. Just stop._

Steve pushed back the covers and heaved himself out of bed. He’d had another bad dream. Not a nightmare, just awful. He’d been back at the Avengers base upstate, watching Bucky and Sigrid. Then he was in Bucky’s place – that part had been pretty good, but then she was gone, and he was just kneeling on the bed looking around, confused. That was bad enough, but then the door flung open and Sigrid and Sharon stood there pointing and laughing at him, nearly crying with laughter. It got as far as them calling to Peggy to come look before he woke up, still feeling humiliated.

After coffee, he felt better. He pushed his breakfast around his plate trying to figure out how to make things better – or at least not worse. Was today still Monday?

His phone buzzed. **‘Should I wait for you?’** Sigrid? No… It was after 9 AM Tuesday. _Wonderful._

 **‘OMW’** which meant he had to get dressed and run there – that was faster even than his bike with morning traffic. As he ran, he tried not to think anymore. To outrun his thoughts.

She hadn’t waited for him and was punching the larger bag with vigor. “Glad you could make it.” She didn’t sound enthused. The banter was gone, just business. Excruciating. At the end, she suggested they skip the training until after the New Year. Her mouth kept moving, but he couldn’t make out the words very well.

“I’ll be out of town for a bit, so it’ll just be easier that way.”

“Oh.” It was hard to talk when it felt like he couldn’t breathe.

She didn’t say good-bye, just waved once without looking at him as she walked out. Not even knocking the punching bag around helped get rid of that feeling of having the rug pulled out from under him.

Maybe she was going to Norway and New Asgard for the holidays. Steve had seen photos and it was beautiful. Must’ve been awhile since she’d been there too. As he got cleaned up and walked to the diner, he wondered how long she’d stay. Whether she’d want to see him when she came back. SHIELD was pretty good at keeping their people out of each other’s way when they didn’t have a reason to get together. There was a strong possibility he might never see her again.

Steve hadn’t realized he’d stopped walking until somebody bumped against him on the sidewalk, saying “Hey buddy, shift it!”

He pulled chilly air into his lungs. He’d been holding his breath too. _One foot in front of the other._

At least when he arrived at the diner, his favorite waitress was there. Looking at the menu of malts and shakes, he pushed away the thoughts that wondered which she’d choose, which would be her favorite. His guess was that she liked sweets as much as Loki seemed to. He smiled sadly, wondering if she preferred frozen sweets over others. To derail that thought train, Steve ordered his favorite, the coffee banana malt, but could hardly taste it.

The waitress sat down across from him. “You goin’ home for Christmas, son? You look homesick.”

“Wish I could.” He tried to muster a smile. He thought of his childhood home, his mother doing her best to make Christmas special for him even in the middle of the Depression. Oranges and walnuts still in their shells had been their tradition. Santa sometimes brought him a penny to spend on whatever he wanted, though most years it was too hard to decide between candy and pencils, so he saved it until he'd had enough so he didn't have to decide between them.

“Got some friends you can visit? You should take better care of yourself.” She stood and patted him on the shoulder and moved to greet some new customers.

That was not… terrible advice. Steve ran through a mental list of friends: Stark – not helpful. Thor – negative. Natasha? Pretty firmly not on his side for this one. Sam? Would want to talk it out and he didn’t want to admit to being hung up on the girl he’d complained about in the past – and Sam had agreed with him. Bucky was also not going to be very helpful here.

Clint? Lived out of town. Had manual labor that needed to be done – probably. His fingers were already dialing. “Hi Clint, it’s Steve.”

Clint laughed, “I got that.”

“Oh, right – caller ID – I forgot. Sorry.”

“What’s up?”

“I was just wondering if you minded if I came up for a few days?”

“You and Barnes?”

“No, just me. Bucky’s pretty busy lately.” And I feel like a third wheel.

He heard Clint talking to his wife, muffled in the background laughing and saying something like, “We should open a B & B.”

Then Clint responded, “Yeah, it’s fine. When ya thinking?”

“Maybe tomorrow or the next day?”

“Sounds good. See ya then.”

“Hey, is there anything you need me to bring… For the kids or to help out with Christmas or anything?”

“I’m sure the kids wouldn’t say no to more presents, but just yourself is plenty. See ya soon, Rogers.”

Preparing for a trip gave him something to put his energy into. Maybe he should try to share some of what he’d enjoyed at Christmas with Clint’s family. First mission: Chestnuts for roasting. That got the song in his head “The Most Wonderful Time of the Year.” Then there was popcorn for stringing and construction paper for writing your wishes for the New Year and making a paper chain with them. Sticks of candy were harder to find, but he managed.

Steve really felt that he should bring gifts for the kids. For Cooper, he chose a nice edition of _The Swiss Family Robinson._ He’d enjoyed that growing up… His mother had read it to him. Maybe Cooper would like it too. Lila… What did girls like these days? Not paper dolls. He thought about what he’d seen the last time he’d been to the farm. They kept a garden. Maybe Lila would like real gardening tools of her own, not flimsy children’s toys. He had to travel a bit to find a hardware store, but was able to find a nice trowel and a small steel hand rake. For Nathaniel, the youngest, he got a very soft, stuffed gray dog? Wolf maybe?

For Laura, he bought a bottle of champagne and for Clint, he bought a copy of Robert Louis Stevenson’s _The Black Arrow._ Lots of adventure, chivalry, knights, fighting for king and country. Not much to do with actual archery, though. Hopefully the additional labor around the farm would make up for it if Clint didn’t like it.

He went home and packed his duffle and wrapped the presents. He hadn’t wrapped gifts in forever… Even made and ate dinner. He felt much more cheerful, if not legitimately merry. He even remembered to text Bucky to let him know he’d have the apartment to himself for a few days.

He flipped channels and watched movies late into the night. _Die Hard_? Not a Christmas movie, didn’t matter what Tony said. See also _Gremlins_. _Holiday Inn_. Now there was a Christmas movie! Frankly, part of him deeply believed you couldn’t really have a Christmas movie without some song and dance numbers.

The next morning, Steve made a beeline for his car rental, ready for wonderful things ahead. While not very white, the weather was great for driving. Listening to Christmas music in the car – even singing along.

Turns out the farm actually had a name – Barton Orchards. Laura ran the farm store and the pick-your-own produce part of the business, while a partner handled the CSA delivery and catering side of the business. It was fairly well-known in the area. Who knew? Fortunately for Steve, it was only a couple hours from the city in light traffic.

He stopped for a late breakfast in the small town outside of Poughkeepsie before driving the rest of the way to the Bartons’ home. The green shutters were just how he remembered them. The porch had garlands of evergreens coiling around the posts and festooning the handrails. Icicle lights dangled around the upper edges of the porch. A pink tinsel unicorn pranced jauntily next to the porch beside a Santa in his sleigh.

The cool air greeted him as he stepped out of the car. The pickup truck was parked next to an older white convertible. Very nice, but kind of impractical with the chilly weather.

Clint came out to meet him. “Wow, didn’t waste any time I guess. Need any help?”

Steve shouldered his duffle and picked up the shopping bag of gifts, “Nope, this is it.” Pointing at the car, “You’ve got company?”

“Well, sort of… It’s fine – we’ve got plenty of room.” He paused, then looked at Steve seriously, “I hope you don’t mind pop music… Lila’s really excited to have someone to sing with other than her mother. They’re… um… unexpectedly enthusiastic.”

Steve shrugged, just being glad to have somewhere to go and people to talk to. He smiled, “If it gets bad, there’s always wood to chop, right?”

“Hey, before we go in, have you seen the _Post_ lately?”

“Nooo… I don’t usually follow the – do they still call them scandal sheets?”

“Not really. C’mon in through the kitchen and I’ll show you.”

They went in and sat at the kitchen table after removing their coats. Clint poured some coffee and unfolded a newspaper, tapping the headline article. **‘WHO IS SHE?? Mystery It Girl Takes City by Storm’** with several color photos of Sigrid with Thor and Loki at Nick’s restaurant, getting into a car, and then entering a very posh hotel bar.  


> ‘Angel or devil, this platinum blonde beauty seems to have these gorgeous out-of-this-world brothers wrapped around her little finger. What everyone’s asking: Who is she? Ford’s and other top modeling agencies confirm she’s not one of theirs. Look out world, this sizzling newcomer is turning the heads of royalty and the bad boys we love-to-hate.
> 
> From our fashion editor: This beauty takes the city by storm in a cocktail dress by Lilly Pulitzer in metallic midnight blue with scalloped hemline and gold platform sandals by Gucci. Her hair is swept back in a refreshingly tousled twist – a stark contrast from the over-styled looks preferred by many of today’s trendsetters. She pairs this chic ensem with a distressed black leather jacket (her own). Fashionistas take note.

“Is this for real?” Steve asked.

“Sunday’s _New York Post_ , no joke.”

From the living room, he heard Lila’s voice singing something. “Nice to meet you where you been? I could show you incredible things.”

Even _he’d_ heard that one a million times on the radio. No wonder Clint had warned him.

Then he heard the voice join for the duet, “Oh my God, look at that face – you look like my next mistake. Love’s a game, want to play?” _No, no, no…_

Aaand together, belting out, “Boys only want love if it’s torture. Don’t say I didn’t, say I didn’t warn ya.”

In the cartoons Bucky liked, they showed the little puff of life leaving the characters as if they were really dying. On TV it was funny – real life, not so much. He tapped the table with his index finger.

“She’s here?”

“Yeah, decided to come up after this came out and another elf ratted her out at work on Monday.”

“Wow…”

“You ok Rogers? You look a little pale.”

He managed to nod. _Peachy…_

Lila came in – she’d grown. She had to be 10? 11 now? “Hi Steve. We’re just filling our water bottles. Want some cookies? They’re over here. Mom said Dad can’t have anymore, but it’s ok if you have some. Aunt Sigga, this is Daddy’s friend Steve.”

“Hi.” She fluttered her fingers in a small wave and filled her water bottle too.

Clint was talking to Lila, “Hey sweetie, can you guys give TayTay a rest? Find something else to do? Maybe you guys could watch a movie or something…” Ending with a hopeful note in his voice. He glanced at Sigrid, “Please?”

Lila rolled her eyes, “Whatever Dad. We’re done with guys trying to push us around and break our hearts. Right?” She looked at Sigrid now.

Diplomatically, Sigrid said, “Well, sweetie, we still have to find a way to… coexist… peacefully.”

“But you said…”

“That was for the liars and the players, remember? Gotta listen to your dad. He’s a good guy.” She paused, “What about that movie you said I had to see?”

“O-M-G!” Lila squealed, “I totally forgot!” Pulling Sigrid’s hand, “Come on!!”

Steve stared at the doorway the two had passed through for a moment and Laura came in from outside. She gave him a hug, “Nice to see you again, Steve. I’m sorry I’m going to be a bad hostess and leave you right after you get here. Clint, get the kids – we’ve got to get our Christmas shopping done. It’s now or never – looks like the weather’s changing. We might get some snow after all. Nate’s in his car seat – I’ll see you guys in the car.”

“Lila! Cooper! Time to go Christmas shopping! Come on!”

Sigrid came into the kitchen with Lila. Speaking to Clint, who was putting on his own coat, “You guys rushing off?”

“Yeah, Laura said there’s gonna be snow and she wants to our shopping done before it comes.” He looked through the kitchen window and frowned. “Hey kid, if the snow arrives before we do, you good to take care of the animals?”

Sigrid laughed, “I think I can manage, Clint. It’s been a while, but I know my way around cows.” She sighed. “Have fun.”

Lila gave her a hug and Cooper gave her a quick high five after slipping on his coat. “Hasta la vista-"

And in unison Sigrid and Cooper said, “Baby!”

Steve saw Lila roll her eyes and smiled. She noticed and made a gagging face.

Lila held Sigrid’s arm for a second, “Don’t forget to watch our movie too.” Then she groaned, “Dad’s so slow… we’ll never make it back in time.”

Sig laughed. “I promise I won’t forget. Better hurry up, your mom’s waiting.”

Sigrid went out onto the porch to see them off and Laura came up and spoke to her briefly and Steve could see their faces were serious. Then Laura said something else and Sigrid laughed, and they shook hands. Then louder, she waved and said, “Bye! Have fun!”

He waved from the kitchen window and watched their SUV pull away. She seemed to be in a good mood, maybe she wasn’t so mad anymore. As she came in from the porch, she scooped up his duffle bag and he scrambled a bit to follow her. She dropped it in front of one of the bedrooms without speaking to him or even looking at him before walking into a different room and letting the door close loudly behind her. Definitely still mad.

Steve went back downstairs, his feet sounding heavy in the stillness of the near-empty house. He pulled on his coat again and went outside to see if there was anything he could do. Firewood split and in tidy piles. He decided to bring some more inside just to have something to do. Then hearing nothing from upstairs, he washed the dishes and cleaned up in the kitchen.

As he wiped the counters and the table, she walked past him and into the mudroom between the kitchen and the porch.

He worked up his nerve, “Hey, you want some lunch?”

“No thanks.” She pulled on a pair of dirty farm boots and a fleece-lined flannel shirt and walked out. From the window, he saw her put her fingers in her mouth and whistle. Two black and white dogs, all long tongues and wiggling bodies ran up to her, jumping and barking happily beside her as she walked away. At the top of the hill, he saw her pick up a stick and throw it for them to chase.

 _Not for you pal. She’s out of your league – a legitimate goddess._ In a roll-top desk, he found an envelope and put the Nutcracker tickets in it and taped it to her bedroom door. Then he went to the room the Bartons had set aside for him and put a few things away and got out his sketch book. Bucky had gotten it for him for his last birthday. Five months later it was nearly full. He started flipping through it as he made his way back to the living room, figuring he could watch part of the movie Lila had put in and if he didn’t like it, he could try drawing something.

He sat on the couch, still looking at the sketches he’d done. There was Natasha sleeping in one of the crash seats on the Bus. Banner’s face as he’d watched Nat sleep. Stark’s face lit up with inspiration. _Probably just telling dirty jokes_. The sparrows that visited his fire escape for the free bread crumbs.

Then it fell open to two pages side by side. On the left a drawing of Sigrid running forward, blade extended, mouth open, shouting, and a fierce look on her face. He hadn’t drawn her opponent. This was after his first mission with her. Her icy armor was still forming around her. He liked to think that he captured some of her vitality on paper. Across from it, was her staring into space, after the mission, dirty and disheveled. The vitality used up.

In the margin, he drew a smaller picture of her holding her arm above her head, stick in hand, and her body turning as she smiled down at the Bartons’ dogs. Just a quick sketch to remember the moment. As the hollow ache started to fill his chest again, he snapped the book closed, but as it hit the couch, it opened to another of the pages he looked at frequently – a drawing he’d done of Peggy from memory. He touched the edge of her face sadly and closed the book carefully.

As Steve started the movie, he wondered idly if Peggy would have liked Sigrid or not. He decided that they probably would have gotten along well enough, might even have been friends. They’d have probably liked the other’s unwillingness to compromise between femininity and being tough – and neither suffered fools.

The movie wasn’t one that he’d seen before. It’d been almost eighty years since seeing an animated movie ( _Fantasia_ ). With no one else around to make fun of him for watching a Disney princess movie, he found himself enjoying it very much. He could relate to the loneliness both the main characters felt and was happy that they found their own happiness and carved out a place for themselves in their world. A world where neither girl had to hide who she was. Of course, he’d recognized the story of the Ice Queen right away, but he enjoyed this version much more than Andersen’s original story.

After the movie ended, he stood up and decided to make some popcorn to string. _Keep busy, don’t think_. About three o’clock, Sigrid returned to change her clothes to start chores. He’d strung about a mile of popcorn – enough that the Bartons’ Christmas tree almost looked snowy.

A few minutes later, Sigrid came downstairs and tossed the envelope on the table and started to leave.

“Wait-“ his voice sounded loud after so much silence. “They’re yours… I got them when I got the tickets for the Rockettes.” She watched him, her expression neutral, but her eyes scrutinized him. He stammered on, “I thought you should get to go to the show you wanted to see too. They’re for next week on Tuesday. There’s two, so you can take whoever you want. I didn’t get the chance to give them to you before. I’m sorry…” He ran out of words and his voice trailed off.

She looked him in the eye and it felt like her silver-grey eyes were stripping him to the soul. Then looking away, she picked up the envelope and buttoned it up in the shirt pocket of her flannel. She turned to the fridge to get a snack of milk and cookies before heading out. Into the fridge she said, “You gonna fill the whole house with popcorn, Rogers, or you looking for something else to do?”


	14. I'll Be Looking at the Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What can I say? Romance is in the air. <3

The snow hadn’t started yet, but it was getting late enough in the afternoon that it was time to start chores – just in case. Sigrid ate her snack and waited for Steve to change into something he could wear out to the barn. Part of her felt bad for having been so angry with him, but hopefully that was over. She was glad that Nat had been right – of course Nat had known him longer.

Helping herself to another cookie, she realized that on one of their ladies’ nights Nat had confessed to kissing Steve – just to stay hidden from Hydra agents who’d followed them into a shopping mall (suuure…). By Sigrid’s count, that put the number of Avengers Nat had kissed at two, with Barnes not quite counting. And hers at zero for the same reason. Also, chaste pecks on the cheek did not count. She felt slightly less like a tart than she had for the last week and smiled to herself.

Steve came down in sweats and holding a pair of battered sneakers. “In case the boots don’t fit.” Fortunately for Steve’s duffle bag, the boots did fit… well enough.

Sigrid led the way to the barn, which was tucked between the road and the farmhouse. “Ready City Boy?”

Now that all the cows were staring at them, Steve looked less certain, but nodded anyway. “As I’ll ever be.”

“Ok. Without the animals here, we’d be strong enough to clean up the old straw pretty quickly, but they are here and don’t like fast movements, so we need to take our time.” She demonstrated using a flat four-tined pitchfork to clean out the dirty straw and then fluff clean straw in its place. “Gives them a nice clean, soft place to sleep.” Sig handed him the pitchfork. “Go for it, soldier.”

She watched for a few minutes, but it really wasn’t too difficult, so she went up to the second level of the barn to throw down hay for the cows. Sigrid fed the older animals and started feeding the calves their hay and making sure their water hadn’t frozen. Steve walked up, “What’s next?”

She smiled, “Same thing, but with the calf pens. Don’t let them out.” The calves had plenty of room to move around and shared their large pens with three or four other calves, which helped keep them warm.

Steve looked dubious. She giggled, “I am giving you the shit jobs, if you’re wondering.” She laughed harder at his consternation. “Only because you don’t know how to milk cows, though.”

“You do?” Confronted with even more dung, he sounded extremely skeptical.

“Live in Europe long enough and you pick up a few tricks.” She looked pleased with herself, “I can make artisan cheese too.”

“Don’t tell Tony or he’ll start calling you Heidi.”

Sigrid laughed and turned on the Bluetooth speaker system before starting the pre-milking prep work, mostly cleaning and sterilizing equipment. Steve had finished when she was ready to start milking. Ready for his next mission, though he did look grouchy about all the ‘cleaning’ jobs.

“Just need to feed the dogs and the cats.” She pointed to where their food and dishes were.

“What’s after that?”

She shrugged. She’d fed the chickens earlier since they didn’t like to be disturbed after dark.

Steve suggested, “I could clean up and make dinner? See if Clint’s called.”

“Sounds good to me. This is gonna take a while. I haven’t milked cows since the First World War.” She winked.

There weren’t too many animals, only about fifty. Still, it took a while before she got the hang of the newfangled equipment. The killer part was that she’d started to mentally berate all the machines and had almost had the thought, ‘Give me a good wooden bucket any day!’ before finally getting it to work smoothly.

A few hours later, Steve came to check on her. Particularly embarrassing, because he’d caught her singing as she was cleaning up. Full-on singing into the broom handle. It was her jazz and ballad playlist, because she thought the animals would appreciate that more than either punk or angry young women belting out their broken hearts in song.

“Dinner’s ready when you are, Edith Piaf.” Oh, it was nice to see him smiling again. Had it really just been a week?

‘Hallelujah’ came on. She knew everybody loved Jeff Buckley’s voice when he sang this song, so it was kind of cliché, but it felt like a crime to walk away from it. “Dance with me?”

“I don’t know how to dance.” He took a step back.

“This one’s slow, no fancy steps.” She saw him hesitating. “Nevermind – I’ll come in after this one.”

He held out his hand to her. He still looked a little grim about dancing, but she took his hand and put her other hand on his shoulder. They swayed together, both listening to the music.

The song finished and then it was Billie Holliday.

> I'll be seeing you  
>  In every lovely summer's day  
>  In everything that's light and gay  
>  I'll always think of you that way  
> 

They danced through that song too, shuffling their booted feet through the straw in the center aisle of the barn. She’d missed Steve. Sigrid looked at him and saw a strange expression on Steve’s face. Trumpets and brass sounded a change of pace and she went to collect her phone and turn off the speakers.

As they walked back to the house, she wondered where he’d gone when he’d looked so far away, why he was so quiet now. She linked her arm in his and he looked over.

“Sorry I’m not better company.”

Sig shrugged. “S’okay. Better than feeling like you have to pretend.”

Steve pressed his lips into something that was probably supposed to be a smile. “Thanks.”

They cleaned up and ate in near silence. He really was a pretty decent cook. She remembered to take her tickets out of her shirt pocket before putting it into the wash. She took the envelope upstairs and brought down a small metal case resembling a cigarette case.

She saw him sitting on the couch, looking at a book of drawings. He closed it quickly when he saw her coming downstairs, but not before she’d seen a pretty woman with dark hair and eyes. She sat near him, and handed him the case.

“What’s this?”

“Open it.”

His fingers fumbled for a moment and he opened it to see two very old photographs. One of two young women standing near a balcony overlooking a courtyard in Europe somewhere. Vienna? No, Munich. One young woman was glaring at the photographer and the other looked at her friend. Both wore the voluminous dresses popular in the mid-nineteenth century. The photo on the right was the dark-haired woman in profile, her hair twisted back in elaborate twists and twirls on the back of her head, but her face was sweet, if not beautiful. Serene.

Steve held the photos closer. “Is that …?”

Sigrid smiled, “Yeah, that’s me with the resting bitch face. I think the hat shaded my hair, so it looks darker.” The photo on the right was really a center divider with another photo on the other side of the case. “This one’s a better one of me from that time.”

In this portrait, Sigrid stood alone, next to a chair upholstered with tapestry, leaning lightly on her parasol, holding her hat. Her gown had X patterns at the hem and shoulders and looked appropriate, but unusual for the time.

“Who’s this woman?” Steve went back to the woman in profile.

“Cerise Bellamy. She was my best friend – more like a sister.” She smiled. “Cerise called me Séverine Petit. Severe Little One. The first because it was true and the other because it wasn’t.” Sigrid smiled at the memory and then could feel her face crumpling, tears stinging her eyes. She covered her mouth with her hand.

Steve studied the photos printed on the thick cardboard. When Sig trusted her voice to work again, she went on. “These were taken maybe a year after we met. She’d been sickly growing up and her family hired me to be her companion. After that, we were inseparable – even though she grew old. I was her friend, then her sister, her daughter, and then her granddaughter.”

Sigrid held her hand over her mouth again and swallowed. Steve asked the obvious question, “What happened?”

“We had another photo taken – years later! We had been careful, moving from time to time so people didn’t get suspicious… But one of the clerks in the shop had seen a copy of this photo of the two of us. He recognized me.”

Steve looked at her, his liquid blue eyes focused, brow creased, sensing a hurt he couldn’t fix.

Sig swallowed. “He belonged to an organization called the Thule Society. They were obsessed with magic and occult power. They killed her, trying to get her to reveal my secrets. She only knew I didn’t age as she did, that’s all….” She looked away, “You can’t reason with people like that.” Her voice cracked, “They killed her…”

“When?” Steve’s voice was quiet, gentle.

“During World War I.” Her voice was a tight whisper. “Before you were born. She was seventy-two.” Her eyes squeezed tight. She shuddered and looked at Steve, eyes red, cheeks tear-stained. “Do you know I’d never killed anyone before then?” Her throat made a strange thin sound. She pushed tears away with the heels of her hands. “If I had to, I’d knock someone down and run away. All that time and I ran away... Cerise told me to run – to hide – because surely, they’d be able to tell she couldn’t tell them what they wanted to know. I believed her…”

Her eyes flashed with anger and ferocity. “I fought here and there as I moved across Europe. Was trying to find somewhere that didn’t remind me of her. That's when they started calling me _Snegurochka_ – or at least that’s why the rumors start then.” Sigrid glanced at Steve. “Later, I found out that Hydra had absorbed what was left of the Thule Society.” She gestured as if to say, ‘there you have it.’

Steve nodded and swallowed. “Why are you telling me?” He wanted to know.

After a moment, she looked up at him. “I want someone else to know her – at least a little bit like I did.” Tears spilled over again. “Maybe it makes her seem not so far away. Maybe because you and I are both children of war. I don’t know… I miss her every day.”

“Were you, um… involved?”

Sigrid smiled, “No. In retrospect, maybe she loved me that way, I don’t know. It never occurred to me at the time.”

Steve put his arm around her shoulders and handed her a handkerchief. Then slowly, he started to tell her about Peggy Carter. Her strength, determination, and temper. She’d heard of Agent Carter, of course, but had never met the woman herself. He smiled describing how she’d shot at him after seeing him kissing a secretary. “That was when we went with the vibranium shield.”

“That’s awesome.” Sigrid laughed, “Guess she got your attention, huh?”

He smiled and nodded. “Definitely.” His smile faded. “I promised to take her dancing just before the mission when I crashed the plane. We never got to go on that date.”

“I didn’t know Steve, I’m so sorry.”

He shook his head, “I wanted to… Didn’t want to miss another chance.” The corners of his mouth tugged down. “I still wish she and I had gotten our chance, though.” His voice cracked, “She was going to teach me how.” He looked sadly at her, “She died last year.” Sighing deeply, he said, “I think a few guys on the team wondered why I visited her so often – she was in her nineties, but to me, she was still my best girl.”

He glanced at her, almost defensively, as if he half-expected her to make a snarky comment. She rested her head on his shoulder. “We’re a pair, huh?”

“How so?”

“First family trees, now mourning the dead. A real laugh riot we are.” She sighed. Then stood up and offered Steve her hand. “Since I stole your first dance, I don’t think Peggy would approve of a job half done. C’mon.”

“What do you mean?” He took her hand and she pulled him to his feet.

“I'm teaching you to dance properly. Then the next girl won’t have to.”

Steve half-laughed, still sad. “Taking one for womankind?”

“Something like that. C’mon. It won’t be any fun – I’m mean.” Now his smile touched his eyes. She asked him, “Do you want a song you know or something newer?”

“I guess something I know… I don’t know.”

“Ok, no problem.” She set up her streaming music app to Glenn Miller’s “Moonlight Serenade” on repeat. A slow song, but with a little bit of swing and started showing him the steps.

After he stepped on her feet several times, Sigrid said, “Come on Rogers, you’re not even trying!” He started to argue and pulled away, she added, “So you’re going to quit after three minutes? Fine.”

He grumbled and sat back down and she started dancing with the Swiffer instead, counting the steps out loud and commenting how light on his feet ‘Swiff’ was. One, two, three, four. Turn, two, three, four. Step back, two, three, four. Turning and gliding across the floor. Sigrid peeked at Steve who looked like he wondered if she was making fun of him (a little bit), but also amused.

Then she pretended Swiff got too fresh (with one-sided dialog even) and she had to leave him at the far side of the room. She held out her hand to Steve again. “C’mon Cap, I won’t bite unless you say please.” She smiled mischievously.

He rolled his eyes and stood up again. “Guess I can’t leave you in Swiff’s evil clutches.” He snickered, unable to stay serious.

She laughed and put some distance between them, so he could look down at their feet and started to count out loud again. “Good! Two, three, four. Now turn, three, four. Turn, two, three, four.” Around and around the Bartons’ living room. After about 45 minutes she didn’t have to count anymore, and he didn’t have to look at his feet.

Sigrid looked at him. “Ready for the challenge round?”

“Sure, I guess.” Steve sounded seriously hesitant.

“That’s the what the hell attitude I was looking for!” Sigrid put on ‘Rock Around the Clock.’ “This is what people think of when they talk about swing dancing. Sort of variations on the Lindy Hop.”

“O…kay.”

“Chin up, Cap! You’ve put yourself into the hands of a master,” a devilish gleam in her eyes. “Just follow along.” She danced the woman’s part slowly and then demonstrated the man’s part. “Something like that.”

Steve looked apprehensive, but decided not to protest. Sigrid took his hand and they practiced the basic walk. “Good! You’re a natural!” This was not technically true. Or even a little bit true, but he looked like he was starting to enjoy himself and confidence combined with being relaxed were pretty much the critical components he was missing.

She moved the coffee table out of their way, as they were using more of the living room’s floor space. As the playlist moved on through other similar early rock and roll songs, she added more flourishes and guided him through some turns and he even worked up the confidence to twirl her once.

When the next song came on, she combined the steps they’d done with the slower dance with the looser steps they’d just been practicing. “Oh Pretty Woman” really was an under-rated song lately – it’d been forever since she’d heard it. Sig could hear him counting softly to himself. _By Jove, I think he’s got it!_ At the end, he surprised her by dipping her. From the expression on his face, he surprised himself by pulling it off without anybody getting hurt.

“Uh… Mom, what are they _doing_?”

Sigrid looked into the kitchen and saw the older Barton children looking at them doubtfully. Steve pulled her up quickly and looked like they’d been caught making out on the couch or something. The tele-type of his thoughts read, _‘Nothing to see here, please move along.’_ On the other hand, she was fairly sure she had a dopey grin pasted to her face.

“Just dancing, Coop. Now it’s late – you two need to get ready for bed.”

Cooper muttered to Lila, “Old people dancing…” and Lila nodded sagely.

Steve looked at her, “I should see if Clint needs help.” He pointed to the outside door, but he watched her and ran into the refrigerator. Sigrid giggled. Laura, bless her, pretended not to notice anything and just winked at Sigrid after Steve went outside.

She felt superior for a few minutes, but then found herself smiling, tidying up with Swiff with more gliding around the room than strictly necessary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I'll Be Seeing You" written by Irving Kahal and Sammy Fain, 1938 and has been recorded by a lot of artists (Billie Holliday's version is my favorite, though!).


	15. Hey, Nothing Wrong with a Little Cup Noodle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So much fluff. And then some more. Hardly need to imagine little hearts in their eyes.

The next morning, Sigrid got a call from Coulson reminding her about SHIELD’s holiday party tomorrow evening. _Must not have gotten very many RSVPs_.

That day, the Bartons opened their Christmas gifts to overall success even though both she and Steve had plummeted in the estimation of the older Barton children with their old people dancing. Sigrid planned to leave in the early afternoon to make the drive back to the city before it got too dark. Her 1960 Alfa Romeo Giulietta Spider Veloce, as awesome as it was, wasn’t the best after dark in the winter. Still, it was so cool, and she didn’t get to drive it much. Not really a commuter vehicle. She totally understood Coulson’s attachment to Lola. Though her car didn’t fly. Maybe if she was really good next year Santa would retrofit it for vertical takeoff…

“C’mon Steve… It’s no problem for you to ride with me. You could drop your car at the rental agency in Poughkeepsie.”

“Did you know there’s no seatbelts in your car?” His eyebrows had practically merged with his hairline.

“Says the guy who jumps out of airplanes without a parachute.”

“Is it legal to drive without seatbelts?”

“Grandfathered in and street legal – chicken.” Not even a little bit defensive.

“Do you have a license?”

“Nobody’s gonna force you to ride with me, Steve.” Sigrid stuck out her tongue at him and started loading her car. “And for the record, yes. I do.”

“It’s just supposed to snow…” Steve said lamely.

“All I’m hearing are excuses Rogers. When I’m ready to go, I’m leaving.”

To be fair and not rush him too much, she took her time saying her good-byes to Clint and his family. “Sorry to have descended on you like that.”

“Not a problem. That’s what family’s for, kid.” Clint said and hugged her. “Merry Christmas.”

Reluctantly, Steve agreed to ride with her back to the city, so they made a detour to Poughkeepsie. After stopping for lunch, they dropped off his car at the rental office.

Sigrid teased him, “No love for cars?”

Steve walked around it, appraising, “I like the ones with more chrome better.”

She patted the car’s fender, “Don’t listen to him Olaf. He’s just jealous.”

Steve got in, with two such tall people in the little sports car, it was pretty cozy. She smiled, “Ready?” And put the pedal down before he could respond. Compared to new sports cars, it wasn’t particularly fast, but it made great vroom-vroom noises and was a lot of fun to drive.

After the first ten minutes, Steve released his grip on the dash. “You named your car after a snowman?”

Sigrid laughed. “No, they named the snowman after my car.” She glanced at him. “Nah, I call him Olaf because that’s his name. And he totally looks like an Olaf! Right?”

Steve laughed. It felt good to hear him laugh. They chatted, and their commute passed uneventfully. Sigrid didn’t even remember to turn on the radio until they were reaching the outskirts of town. They’d just kept finding new things to talk about. The Yankees (him), the reasons hockey was superior to baseball (her), who the best band leaders were back in the day, most memorable dive bars. The conversation just kept flowing.

He directed her to his apartment building and she pulled up in front. She asked, “Was it as bad as you thought it was going to be?”

He looked a little surprised, like he’d forgotten all his objections. He smiled, “I had a great time.” _Wow, good thing you keep that light under a bushel, Rogers._ Dazzling.

For a moment, she thought he might kiss her good-bye and her stomach flip-flopped. Instead, he said, “Want to come up for a cup of coffee?”

Sigrid was pretty sure he was actually going to make coffee. He wasn’t the kind of guy to pretend he had some ‘etchings’ to show her or something. “Love to.”

She hopped out and followed him up the steps after locking her car with the push of a button. When Steve looked to see what the hum was, she smiled, “Security features aren’t original.”

Halfway in the door, Steve turned to look at her, disbelieving, “Let me get this right – you put in a security system… but not _seatbelts_?!”

He chewed her out all the way up the stairs. By the time they reached his door, he’d exhausted his arguments and was waving his hands to illustrate his point and his frustration.

Laughing, she said, “All right Captain Safety Patrol. Seatbelts are next, promise. Besides, I’ll need them if Olaf ever gets his lift kit.”

“What?”

“It’s something Coulson has on his car that would be soooo sweet. If I’ve got seatbelts, I’m practically there.”

“You think Coulson’s really going to do that?”

“Not really. Having Earth-native people with alien DNA is bad enough. He’s not gonna give me a car that can fly on top of it.”

_“What?”_

“Lola can fly.” She had a _squee!_ look of glee on her face and bounced on her toes. “It’s so amazing!” She noticed from Steve’s expression that he might not be the advocate she was looking for as far as ‘lift kits’ went. Time for an artful (but not subtle at all) change of subject, “Do I get a tour or is this the end of the line?”

As Steve unlocked the door, Sigrid daydreamed thinking about them going into his darkened apartment, closing the door, and him pulling her in for a kiss, one hand on the side of her neck and the other hand on her waist. She felt her heart beat faster and took a couple of slow, deep breaths. _Not gonna happen._

_  
_

“Hey, done admiring the stairs?”

Sigrid blushed. Oh god, how long had she been daydreaming? She probably had a stupid look on her face too. “Lead the way.”

The tour wasn’t long, as the apartment wasn’t large, a medium one bedroom. Apparently, Bucky slept on the couch – if the blankets and pillows were to be believed. Full kitchen, though. Fancy. She sat on the counter while he made coffee. _Probably has more than condiments and beer in his fridge_.

Steve leaned on the counter in front of the sink. “You’re quiet all of a sudden. Tired?”

“Nah, not really. Just thinking is all.”

He fished in his pocket and handed her a penny.

“You would keep change in your pockets.” Sigrid smiled into her mug. Fingers curling around the cup.

“Now I’ve paid good money to hear what’s on your mind. Don’t hold out on me.”

Sig wondered how it had been so easy to tell him about Cerise, to let him in to that part of her life and be tongue-tied now. She peeked over her cup. “Thinking about you.”

Steve laughed a little, “Me? Why?” Then looked at the kitchen rug for a moment before looking back at her. He lowered his voice, “Is that good or bad?”

“Good.” She sipped her coffee. She let her eyes drift over his face.

He reached over and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. “I –” He stopped short, hearing footsteps on the stairs outside. They kept going past his door. Instead of what he was going to say, instead he asked, “What were you going to do this afternoon?”

“Um… go to the store and clean my apartment.”

Steve looked at her, eyebrow raised.

“What? I have to go to the store just like everybody else.”

He chuckled, “Just trying to imagine you being domestic.”

Sig made a face at him and drank some more of her coffee. “If you want to come with, you can, but it’s not exciting.”

“I don’t mind.” He looked at her intently for a moment and she thought he’d stroke her cheek or maybe kiss her, but then humor crept into his eyes. “You know they call me the boring Avenger.”

She laughed, “As if!” Sigrid finished her coffee and set her cup in the sink behind him. “Ready when you are.”

On their way, Sigrid dropped her car off at the garage where she kept it and took the subway toward her apartment. A couple of transfers and a bus ride later, they arrived.

Steve looked at her building. “Reminds me a little of where I lived as a kid.”

“I usually just go to the corner market up a block or so.”

“You grocery shop at a convenience store?”

“I’m not even looking at you and I can tell you’re judging me, Captain ‘I have more than mustard, soy sauce, and beer in my fridge.’”

“Is that’s what’s in yours?”

“Maybe. I’m out of Cheez-Its and milk, though. Need some more cup noodle too.” Sigrid looked over her shoulder at him, as though she sensed a disturbance in the Force. “I knew you were judging.”

Steve shook his head, “I’m sorry, that’s just disgusting.”

She laughed and held the door open for him. “Come on up and see for yourself. Elevator’s broken.” Belatedly, “I bet you’ve never even had cup noodle.”

They climbed stairs and she let him into her apartment. He looked around at her place. There were a few clothes on her chair, but overall it was too small to not be tidy. As his eyes wandered, Sig fought the urge to bring out her shoebox of mementoes and tell him every detail behind every single one.

He looked at the books that lined her windowsill, the top of the refrigerator, and nightstand (as well as most of the corners of the room to be honest). Steve took a small notebook out of his coat pocket and started making notes.

“What are you doing?”

“Keeping track of things to find out more about. Things I missed the past few years.”

“I’ll lend it to you if there’s something you’re interested in.”

God, there was that smile again. Somebody sign this guy up for toothpaste ads. _Me-yow!_ “Great!”

“Maybe a fun one and a serious one?”

“Sounds good to me. I’m in your hands.”

She perused and landed on Tennessee Williams’ _The Glass Menagerie_ , “Serious.”

Steve flipped through it, “A play?”

“A fucking fantastic play by one of the best American playwrights of the twentieth century.”

“O…kay. I’ll file that under important,” he grinned.

_When did he stop frowning when she swore?_ Her heart skipped. Sig smiled at him, “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m a little into drama?” She winked at him.

“Are you flirting with me?”

“Depends on whether or not it’s working.” She smiled and winked again, handing him _Charlie and the Chocolate Factory_ by Roald Dahl. “This one’s for fun. I want it back though, it’s a first edition.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t take it then?” Steve started to hand it back.

She pressed it into his hands. “Books die a little when they’re not read. Old books especially. Think of it as a favor to both of us.”

He looked amused for a moment and then slightly more serious, “You mean that don’t you?”

Sigrid nodded. “Absolutely.” She touched some of the spines lovingly and looked up at him.

Steve walked with her to the corner store, the books tucked under his arm carefully. She succeeded in her mission to purchase more milk, instant ramen, and snack crackers. Sig waited with him in front of her building while they waited for his cab to arrive.

Staring at the crackers, still kind of grossed out, Steve asked, “You don’t even eat them with cheese?”

“No –” This was because she didn’t like the ‘cheese’ at the convenience store, but instead she pushed his buttons a little, “They have the cheese baked right in them!”

Then listened to him go off on nutrition and vitamins for a few minutes. “Are you listening?”

“Yup.”

“Cause you’ve got this look like you’re not paying any attention.” He almost pouted.

Sigrid leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.

“What’s that for?”

“Being you.” She tried to bite back a smile. His cab pulled up. “See you tomorrow. Coulson’s party?”

“See you then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you that like angsting - just wait a little longer. There's more, don't worry. ;D We'll get to see more of Tony Stark, Bucky Barnes, and Natasha Romanov too, but not yet. :D 
> 
> Also, I've got a final chapter count!!! YaY! Thinking about what to write next - might be a spin-off story with Time Travel Tony. What do you think? Comments are better than chocolate! (No, really!!)


	16. It's Totally a Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More cuteness (& Bucky's back - he'll make a longer appearance later, but I hope this helps tide you over!!).

Friday morning, she went back to work Santa’s cottage near the skating rink. Apparently, it was difficult to find quality elves when Christmas was just over a week away. They’d also left a very apologetic voicemail. Onto the subway in her costume. The line was suspiciously longer next to Santa.

By 11:30, her smiler was running out of steam. The manager decided her break was a good time for photo ops for socialites and children’s dads to take selfies with her. At least she was getting a cut of the fee the manager was charging. It was difficult to smile so much, though. She had to keep the image of Thor taking selfies with his groupies in her mind’s eye. The easy-going grin he could just call up from nowhere was her inspiration to get through the next three and a half hours.

The office party was also a beacon of hope at the end of her day. Plenty of time to eat and get ready. By the time she was ready to go out, she’d gotten no messages for pre-party dinner or drinks. Disappointing. Hopefully not a sign of how the rest of her evening was going to go.

Sigrid dressed in the purple silk dress she’d selected, it had sheer, flowy cap sleeves and sheer fabric pleated into the skirt. Sig had done a couple practice twirls when she’d tried it on and it did well enough that she had also bought a pair of purple sequined hot pants to wear under it – just in case she had to do flips or spin kicks or something. Modesty – her middle name.

The real question when she’d been dress shopping with Nat had been whether or not to buy the knee-high purple snake skin boots that matched, though. Ultimately, she’d decided against them with their spike heels. She had a pair of vintage amethyst-colored suede shoes somewhere between an oxford style and a bowling shoe with a heel. She loved them and had held onto them, but didn’t often have an occasion to wear them, so she stuck with those.

If all the photos taken earlier were any indication, it behooved her to add some makeup and fix her hair too. The best she could do that was somewhat symmetrical were two messy buns on top of her head, wisps of hair poking out even before she was finished adding the hairpins.

Finally, she headed out with her double-breasted magenta wool coat for a light dinner and drink on her own. Sigrid thought about going to a different restaurant, but decided that figuring out somewhere new to go (and what she was in the mood for, etc. etc. etc.) was more difficult than just going to Nick’s again – and the food there really was good too.

Someone ushered her to a quiet table and she’d never received such astonishingly prompt, courteous service in her whole life. Sigrid almost felt bad that her bill wasn’t going to be high enough to make it worth their while.

Sigrid deleted her spam email and had just finished her first drink. She moved on to organizing the rest of her email folders. The waiter brought her a fresh G&T and assured her that her order was almost ready – as if he thought he might be waiting on the Queen of Hearts.

A few more minutes into the longest evening of her life – _nope, I can delete that one too_ – and a man cleared his throat. “Waiting on someone, beautiful?”

 _Barnes…_ She was bored enough to almost be glad to see him. “Nope. All by my lonesome. You were just leaving, one hopes?”  


He grinned and sat down. “I just hate to see you look so bored.”

“Community service?”

He shrugged, “I’m a great guy, what can I say.”

“You’re the worst, JB Barnes.”

“You’re smiling.”

“The. Worst.” She sipped her drink. “Does this have anything to do with that thing in the newspaper last week?”

He looked slightly more serious, “Not as much as you’d think, but if the _Post_ can call the guy who organized a hostile alien invasion of Earth a ‘bad boy we love to hate,’ then maybe I overreacted.”

Sigrid laughed. “Ya think?”

“You’re not mad?”

She sipped her drink and thought a moment before answering, “Not really. Disappointed, sure. What do you care anyway? Aren’t you seeing Sharon?”

He grinned, “She’s pretty great. I can’t really believe she agreed to another date. The party tonight will be our third.” He ran his fingers through his hair, smiling bashfully. “I don’t deserve it.”

“Is that why you’re over here talking to me, standing her up over there?” Sig pointed.

Aghast, he looked toward the bar area. Sigrid waved to Sharon and she came over.

“Hello.”

“Hi, JB was saving me from organizing my email folders. He’s all yours.”

Sharon started to say something else when Steve walked over. “Hi – sorry I’m late.” He looked at Bucky and Sharon. “Did I miss something?”

“About the most awkward double date ever? Nope. Invite must’ve gone to my spam folder.”

Her waiter returned, looking worried. “You’d like a larger table madam?”

“No thank you, but my friends would like something intimate if you’ve got anything for two.”

He looked around and found a table that wasn’t fantastic as far as position in the restaurant went (near the kitchen doors), but was situated by itself and would give Barnes and Sharon some privacy. Bucky'd also be able to have his back to the wall and have a good view of the place. _All-Father, bless that waiter and his thin moustache._

The waiter came back with her food and she asked for an extra plate, so they could share the steamed mussels she’d ordered. “And a bottle of prosecco, please.” With more spring in his step, the waiter glided through the restaurant in pursuit of the bottle of bubbly and glasses.

When he returned and the drinks were poured, Steve said, “I’m sorry I missed your messages. I was out running some errands. I got here as soon as I could.”

Sigrid thought he might touch her hand, but no. For a small table, the space seemed cavernous. He cleared his throat and started again, “Looked like you and Bucky had a lot to talk about.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She sipped her wine and looked at him across the table. She crossed her legs and leaned back in her chair a bit, waiting to hear an explanation.

Steve’s face flushed, “You and he –. You two looked…”

She sipped her wine, then started to eat the mussels. She wasn’t going to help him out of the hole he was digging for himself. “I’m listening.”

He sat for a moment, lips pressed together, eyes closed. “Can I start over?”

Sig raised an eyebrow, “You can try.”

He got up and went outside. She shrugged and went back to the mussels, they really were excellent. Steve was missing out.

About ten minutes later, he returned a little winded with a white box that looked kind of like a bakery box. “Sorry I’m late. I went out to run some errands and I didn’t get your messages until I got home.” He handed her the box, “Forgive me?”

Sigrid opened the box to discover a wrist corsage made of a large white orchid with several smaller purple ones nestled around it. She smiled, “Thank you – it’s beautiful.”

She held out her wrist and tried not to shiver when his fingers brushed her hand and wrist as he slipped it onto her wrist. The tips of his fingers felt so warm on her cool skin. He looked into her eyes, the cool blue never seemed so inviting. Still, she hadn’t quite forgiven the petulant jealousy or annoyance or whatever his problem was before.

He sat back in his chair, looking down at his silverware. “I wish half our conversations didn’t start with me apologizing to you.”

“Then stop making me angry.” She smiled when she said it, but her tone indicated she meant it too.

Grumbling, “You sound just like Loki.”

She smiled and finished her glass of prosecco. “Shouldn’t make him mad either.” Sigrid selected another slice of bread, “You should try the mussels – they’re really good.”

Steve prodded the shellfish with a slice of crusty bread, distracted.

Sigrid wiped her fingers on her napkin and opened her purse, looking for something. Her activity drew his gaze. She took his hand and opened his fingers, pressing his penny from yesterday back into his palm.

He chuckled, “Is this mine?”

“Thought it might come in handy. So, what’s on your mind?”

He looked up self-consciously, a blush threatened to turn him red from the roots of his hair down past the collar of his shirt. His mouth opened and closed a couple times, hesitating. Finally, he half-coughed and bit his lip, then said, “I was just worried that the flowers might be too old-fashioned.” He ran his fingers through his hair and looked away.

Sig tamped down the giggle that wanted very much to bubble up. Right now, he wouldn’t understand and he’d be hurt. She interlaced her fingers with his. “I really do like them Steve.” She smiled fondly at him, “I think it’s very romantic. It’s one of the things –” _that I love about you_ very nearly slipped out. Whoa… Think about that one later. “that makes you so wonderful. Like I’m seeing the real you, not just Captain America.”

Still embarrassed, but with more self-confidence, he mumbled, “You always see the real me.”

She squeezed his hand, “Then I’m very lucky.” Sigrid’s fingers tingled where they touched his. Realizing she’d been totally holding his hand for a while now, she let his hand go.

“You gonna tell me what’s so funny?”

“Hm?” She’d just taken another bite of bread and shellfish.

“I saw your lip do that little thing” he wiggled his fingers, “that it does when you think something’s hilarious, but you’re trying hard not to be rude.”

“Oh, that.”  
He tilted his head to the side, half-serious, “Yeah, that.”

She put her fingers in front of her face and giggled, then laughed out loud. Steve looked a little put out, arms crossed over his chest now. _Uh-oh... the forehead lines..._

Sigrid leaned over the table and beckoned him to lean forward. In a low voice, she whispered, “I was just thinking that it’s funny that you were worried about seeming old-fashioned to me.”

Noticing Steve’s increasingly defensive expression, she added, “Because I’m like 900 years older than you,” and giggled again.

More relaxed again, he said, “I forget that sometimes.” He smiled playfully and pulled out a pair of glasses and his notebook from his jacket pocket, put on the glasses and flipped a couple of pages in his notebook, ready to write. “Sigrid Vinter… First language?”

“Old Norse.”

He chuckled again, “Really?” When she nodded, a little defensive herself, he shook his head, mouthing ‘wow.’ “Favorite childhood pastime?”

“Hide from the witch hunters… And scary stories.”

“Something you miss from your childhood.”

Sigrid thought for a moment, trying to think of something fun or a favorite food – something like that, but those all tied back to “My mother.”

He looked at her to see if it was all right to continue. She smiled and sipped her wine. “Moving onto the present… Favorite vehicle?”

“Olaf… and then motorcycles.”

“Relatives?”

“Just Loki. And Thor – by adoption. And Clint because he kind of adopted me.”

“Ever been married?”

“No. Do I get to wear the glasses and write when you’re done, professor?”

Steve smiled and was looking like he was genuinely having fun. “Um, we’ll see…”

“That always means no,” Sigrid protested.

He shrugged, “Means we’ll see. Ever been in love?”

“Where are you getting these questions from? This sounds like a Facebook thing.”

“You didn’t answer the question.”

She checked the bowl of mussels to see if she’d missed any. “Maybe.”

“Maybe like you’re avoiding the question?” His blue eyes twinkled.

“Maybe like I don’t know.” So there. _Nyah._

“You don’t know? What’s that supposed to mean?”

She shrugged. Too scary to admit? – _Does that make me a commitment-phobe?_ “I bet those glasses are just to make you look cute and intellectual.”

“Moving on…” He smiled, glancing at her over the top of his glasses. “Favorite Avenger?”

“You… dummy.” Back it up, did she just say she thought he was cute? Well, it was true…

“Beatles or Elvis?”

“Beatles.”

He raised an eyebrow and made an interested ‘hm!’ sound. “Hogwarts house?”

“What the hell, Steve? Ravenclaw. C’mon, it’s my turn now.” She reached for the notebook.

He laughed. She loved the way Steve’s eyes crinkled at the corners and his eyes danced when he laughed. He held the notebook away from her. “Two more.”

Sig pretended to be impatient.

Steve held up one finger, next to last question, “Is this a date?”

She looked him over – wearing a shirt with buttons, a tie and jacket too. Noticing the spots of color on his cheeks, Sigrid realized he must be more nervous than she’d thought. She smiled, “I hope so.”

He held up two fingers, his second question. “Ready to get out of here?”

“You bet.”

When they arrived, Sig was relieved that no one’s eyes actually popped out of their heads, though there were more than a few who looked very surprised to see the two of them arrive together. Coulson walked over, “Glad you made it! Heard you took Olaf out the other day. How’s he doing?”

“A real champ. I missed him. How’s Lola?”

“Beautiful as always.”

Steve’s brow knit for a moment as though he couldn’t quite believe they were talking about their cars as though they were living beings. He looked at Coulson, “Did you know her … Olaf doesn’t have seatbelts?”

Sig turned to look at him, with an air of disapproval, “I already promised next upgrade will be seatbelts.” Muttering, “Captain Safety Patrol…”

She turned back to the Director and she tried to wheedle her way into getting Olaf a sweet ‘off-road’ package like Lola’s. Sigrid knew he’d say no, but it never hurt to bring it up once in a while.

Steve stayed to chat with Director Coulson and Sigrid moved to mingle and locate the beverages. It was disappointing to hear so many groups of people talking shop. Some Christmas music in the background and more snacks than usual were apparently the factors that made it a party. _Sigh…_

Most of the agents attending were people who worked locally. Apparently, the big party was going to be in Bethesda next weekend. Clint and Nat had tried to warn her that it wouldn’t be as much fun as she thought.

Sigrid talked with some of the newer agents. She’d stumbled into their conversation by objecting to being referred to as an alien.

“Well, aren’t you?” said a young man clearly in the ‘Earth First’ camp.

“I have non-human DNA, but so does everything else on Earth that isn't human. Born here. By your own laws, that makes me a citizen.”

“Why don’t you go live with your own kind?”

 _Why don’t you choke and die, asshat?_ “I’ve lived here longer than you have, so by the logic you’re using, Earth – and New York – is more my home than yours.” He looked to be in his mid-twenties. Piss off.

Steve slipped an arm around her waist, murmured in her ear, “Winning hearts and minds?”

Sigrid muttered darkly, “He started it…”

She thought having Steve Rogers – Captain freakin’ America – show up might temper this guy’s words, but instead, he just looked disgusted and said, “How can you even stand to breathe the same air as alien garbage like that?”

Though she felt close to losing her temper and noticed that some of the cadets were backing up – and that she could see their breath – she noticed they were looking at Steve, not her. Looking at him, she’d never seen him so angry – absolutely murderous. His voice shook, “You take that back.”

To Steve, she whispered, “Hearts and minds?” To the guy’s friends, “He check his self-preservation instinct at the door with his coat?”

Feeling Steve trembling with rage next to her, “C’mon cowboy, let’s walk it off.” She physically steered Steve away from that conversation.

He looked over his shoulder. “How can you just let them say those things about you?”

“One, it was just that guy. Two, he’s drunk – did you see the glassy look in his eyes?” True, she hadn’t let that stop her from escalating the situation, but Steve was usually more reasonable than she was. “Three, he probably lost someone in the Chitauri invasion or he probably wouldn’t be so upset.”

“That’s no excuse!”

“Shhh…” Sigrid put her hands on either side of his face, chilling them gently.

As she looked up into his eyes and could see his focus switch from his thoughts to her. In a low voice he said, “That feels good.”

She moved one hand to the side of his neck, her touch cool. Sigrid felt his warmth and his heart hammering. Noticed him shift his focus to her lips. She could feel warmth curl through her body and her cheeks flush. In a husky whisper she asked, “Better?”

Steve nodded, intent on her face. He moved a hand to the side of her neck, thumb tracing over her lips. Sigrid’s lips tingled with anticipation.

An unwelcome voice interrupted, “Hey, I wanted to apologize for Carl.” A nervous guy in a practical navy blazer stood there, gesturing to the group they’d walked away from. Carl was apparently Mr. Earth First and was walking unsteadily toward the gents’ supported by a friend on either side. “He’s usually not like that. It’s hard for him ‘cause it’s Christmastime.”

 _Hello? We’re trying to have our first kiss here – can you fuck off?_ No, Good Friend went on and on. And on. Even after she’d tried to accept the apology several times.

Finally, she took matters into her own hands. She shook G. Friend’s hand, “Thanks so much for clearing all that up. I really appreciate you taking the time. We’re just heading out. No harm, no foul. Carl’s lucky to have good friends like you.” From the sounds coming from the bathroom, Carl would probably need a ride home and a lot of aspirin the next day.

Then they walked quickly away from Good Friend and his navy blazer before he could think of something else to say. Steve looked at her like ‘can you believe that guy?’ “Where are we going?”

“Out?” They stopped for their coats. “We could go dancing.”

He looked at her down his nose, pretending to consider, “It’s getting late…”

“It’s nine thirty!”

Steve ran his fingers through his hair, “You didn’t say please.”

“Please?”

He held her at arm’s length for a second. “Do you always get what you want?”

She shook her head no. Would a pout be too much? _Naaaah._

Steve feigned impatience with her flirting. “C’mon, cut that out.”

“Or what?” She winked and smiled.

Steve squeezed her hand. “Or I’ll think of something.” He smiled and shrugged.

Taking her hand, they made their way to the exit and departed. Steve gave an address to the cabby and shortly after, they arrived in front of a coffee shop not far from Central Park.


	17. Calm Before the Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh... our love birds are being romantical... for now. Mwahahahaha! 
> 
> Oh. Sorry. The evil laugh just sort of slipped out there. ;> (heh heh heh)
> 
> I think this chapter is a little short, so I'll probably post another update later in the week. :D

“What are we doing here?” Sigrid asked.

Steve replied, “Just an idea I had, that’s all.” To the barista, “Two hot chocolates.”

“Oh, that’s a good start.” Her eyes sparkled.

“Occasionally I have a good idea,” he chuckled.

Carrying their hot chocolates, they walked side by side into the park. She linked her arm in his. Walking under a bridge, she asked, “Ever think you’d end up here?”

“As a kid growing up in Brooklyn? No.” _Why was she bringing this up now?_

“If you could go back, knowing what you know now – would you still go through with the treatment they gave you?”

“I’ve been able to help a lot of people.”

“I know. But you’ve had to give a lot up too – I’m not talking about those seventy years either.” Sigrid sipped her hot chocolate. “Also, you didn’t answer the question.”

He thought for a while, thinking about the might’ve beens. Without the serum, his future would’ve probably been dying in his thirties of TB or pneumonia. Or a severe asthma attack. He’d never have saved Bucky from Zola. Wouldn’t have been there to save him from Hydra either. Then he looked over at Sigrid, drinking her hot chocolate and licking the edge of the cup where some had splashed out as they walked. Steve shook his head. “No way.”

“You sound so sure.”

“If I hadn’t, I’d never have met you.” He smiled. “Imagine, me – on a date walking through Central Park with the goddess of ice and snow.”

Sigrid laughed. “Is that how you think of me?”

Steve blushed. He hadn’t meant to actually say that. Spoken, you know, with words. “Yeah, sometimes.”

She looked down, but seemed more pleased than trying to deny or appear modest. Knowing she and Loki were related, he could really see it sometimes in her mannerisms. Then, she asked, “You remember at the deli where I met Thor?” _And you made an ass of yourself?_

Hestitantly, “Yeah…” Where was she going with this?

“When they asked what your ideal Christmas would be – what was your real answer?”

He knew what she was talking about – the image of being snuggled under a blanket with her, as the fireplace burned low, and the snow blew outside. Maybe something freshly baked with the scent of vanilla and cinnamon still in the air. Lights low...

Sigrid was snapping her fingers in front of his face. “Ok – you were _not_ just daydreaming about Nazis.”

Steve laughed. He couldn’t remember a time when he’d laughed so much before these last few days. “Do I really have to answer that?”

“No, of course not, but you know – _quid pro quo_ , Captain Rogers. _Quid pro quo_.” Sigrid tried to look sinister and did a reasonable facsimile thereof. Noticing his blank expression, she sighed. “ _Silence of the Lambs_? No?” When he shook his head, she elbowed him. “You need to take some comp days or something and spend some quality time with the TV.” Shaking her head, she went on “Anyway, if you don’t answer, then I won’t answer your question if I think it’s a little embarrassing or something. If you tell me, I’ll tell you. _Quid pro quo_.”

“Don’t laugh, ok?”

“Why would I laugh at you Steve?” She paused then, obviously thinking of something that she would find funny.

That didn’t really foster the sense of confidence he was hoping for, but he made up his mind to just go for it anyway. “I just want to spend Christmas, warm inside with” _the girl I’m falling in love with_ “somebody special. Maybe a fireplace, cookies. Just in our own world while it snows outside.”

She walked along, quiet for a moment. “That sounds really nice. Let me help you out with part of it.” Sigrid handed him her cup then held her hands apart, moving her palms one over the other – almost like Wanda did when she gathered her red magic.

Instead, of red though, a cloudy ball gradually appeared and then grew between her hands. Once it was about the size of a volleyball, thin lines of silver and light blue flickered through it. Then she held the ball of energy? Magic? in one hand and brought her other hand up swiftly from below as she dropped it, sending it hurtling up out of sight.

As he watched the ball soar up into the air until it was lost in all the other lights of the city, he realized how much he didn’t even blink at anymore. The situation had only struck him as bizarre because Sigrid was wearing a magenta-colored coat with the hem of her purple dress poking out and purple shoes. Somebody flinging magic balls of light into the air – not weird. Girls dressed for an evening out on the town knocking magic balls of light into the air – weird.

She looked tired though. He asked her, “Want to sit a minute?”

Sigrid nodded, and they sat. He put his arm around her shoulders and they finished their hot chocolate. Steve noticed she was looking at the lamp posts that dotted the sidewalk. After about ten minutes, though, she relaxed and rested her head on his shoulder. “Merry Christmas, Steve.”

It was snowing. Tiny, light flakes drifted lazily to the ground.

“You did this?”

“M-hm.”

“For me?”

“Yup. Can’t be a goddess of snow with no snow.” She sighed and nestled into his shoulder. “You can’t curl up with your lady love and wait out the snow if there’s no snow.” Then belatedly, as if another thought had just occurred to her, she added, “Guess you were sort of gender neutral though, huh. ‘Someone special.’”

“You got the part where I said inside, right?”

Steve looked over and realized she’d fallen asleep. He was smiling to himself and observing some of the small details of her face – the pattern of her eyebrows, the way the tiny snowflakes clung to her eyelashes.

He heard her phone buzz. Silence. Then his phone started to buzz. He answered.

“Hello?”

Coulson. “Hi Cap. Everything all right?”

“Yeah, everything’s great, why?”

“Oh, we just got a big spike of activity in your area, that’s all.”

Watching the snow drift down lazily, “Activity?” He hoped he didn’t sound as nervous as he felt.

“It’s probably nothing. Enjoy your date Cap.”

“Thanks Director.”

Steve nudged Sigrid. “Hey, sleepyhead.”

Sigrid snuggled into him, her nose brushing against the side of his neck. “Mmmm.”

He tamped down the wave of desire that flooded his senses. “C’mon, we don’t have to go home, but we can’t stay here.”

She groaned in protest, but stood after he did. She walked with her arm around his waist, leaning slightly against him. He had his arm around her shoulders again. Part of him still ached that he and Peggy had never been able to be so close, but for once, that regret didn’t overwhelm the pleasure and excitement of the moment.

At first, she was so quiet, Steve thought she was walking in her sleep next to him. Then she said, “I hope food is next in your plan.”

chuckled, “It could be. What sounds good?”

“Don’t care as long as it doesn’t take too long.” Sigrid still sounded tired.

He ordered Thai from his phone – it was on the way and open until eleven. At the edge of the park, he hailed a cab and they drove first to the restaurant and then to Avengers Tower. Sigrid was on the verge of falling asleep again when they arrived.

“We’re here.” _Sweetheart._

He helped her out of the cab and walked toward the building. Steve hoped his access badge still worked the front entrance. _Success!_ Through the lobby and to the elevator. Frankly, any time he wasn’t accosted by robots in a Stark building, Steve counted himself fortunate.

The elevator dinged open and they entered. When the door shut though, a pleasant female AI voice said, “Please enter afterhours authorization in. Two – minutes.”

He put his palm on the black screen above the elevator floor buttons.

The AI spoke up again, “Welcome. Voice activation required.”

“Steve.”

“Access – denied.”

“Captain Steve Rogers.”

“Denied.”

“Hurry up, I’m hungry,” Sigrid complained.

He rolled his eyes. “Captain America.”

“Denied.”

Sigrid poked him in the side, “Think like Stark. He programmed this thing.”

Heaving a sigh, “Capsicle?” She giggled, and he glared at her.

“Denied.”

Racking his brain, “Gramps?”

“Access denied.”

_Oh no. He wouldn’t._ The AI voice said, “Thirty seconds until security measures are taken.”

“Ninety-Year-Old Virgin.”

“Access granted! Welcome – Steve Rogers to Avengers Tower.”

“Good work.” Under her breath, but not quiet enough, “Took long enough.”

“Only because the pass phrase is humiliating,” he said defensively.

“Sorry – just hangry.”

They arrived at the commons level. Sigrid took off her shoes by the door and Steve set the food down on the bar.

Sigrid said, “I want to change into something more comfortable.”

“Um, well anything that got left behind will probably be in the guest rooms downstairs one level.”

Sigrid said, “Hello?”

The AI voice came on – not your everyday digital assistant’s voice. “How may I help you?”

“Um, do you have a name?”

The voice paused, “Mr. Stark calls me FRIDAY.”

“Is there a name you’d like me to call you?”

The AI paused, clearly no one had asked her this before. “I am an Advanced Neural Network Interface. Please call me ANNI.”

Sigrid smiled, “I’m glad to meet you Anni. I’m Sigrid.”

“Welcome Sigrid. How may I help you?”

“Can I use the elevator, or will I get stuck?”

The AI paused, thinking – computing? Then having reached a conclusion, “I see no reason not to allow you to use the elevator, but if you become a security risk, I will have to take appropriate measures.”

Sigrid nodded, “Fair enough Anni. Thanks.”

There wasn’t much clothing to choose from, just a hodgepodge that different team members left behind at one point in time or another. After putting the Thai food in the oven to stay warm, Steve went downstairs to change and found a pair of track pants and a white tank top that he’d forgotten there.

When he re-entered the commons area, he saw that Sigrid found one of Stark’s band t-shirts that she wore with a pair of pin-striped suit pants – probably also Tony’s, and a zip-up hoodie that probably belonged to Thor – enormous, but long enough in the arms. She’d combed out her hair and the unruly waves hung to her shoulders.

“Time to eat!”


	18. Four Wizards and a Super-Soldier Walk Into a Bar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ready for drama? heh heh heh... }:>

After putting away her share (and then some) of pad thai, pineapple fried rice, and chicken green curry, Sigrid was in much better spirits. She rummaged in the fridge, “Want a beer?”

“Sure.”

She brought the beer and drank as Steve ate at a much more reasonable pace. After a few minutes, though, she yawned and said, “I’m gonna lay down on the couch a minute.”

As soon as she was horizontal, Sigrid fell very comfortably asleep. That is until she heard muttering male voices from the bar area.

 _Maybe if I just keep my eyes closed they’ll shut up._ They? WTF? Probably a dream. She threw a slushy snowball toward the noise and turned over, determined not to wake up.

Voice one rising, deeper and louder.

Steve’s voice, “Shhhhh!”

And one more voice – actually whispering. No…, argue-whispering.

Sigrid really was exhausted. Busy week – week of emotional ups and downs. Because she was so tired, she felt particularly irritated that these guys were interrupting her fucking glorious nap. _Count to ten…_ Deep breaths. _Nope, still pissed._

“Shhh! Guys, can we take this outside? You’re waking her up!” Steve tried to whisper because he was adorable and nice. The best.

She stood. When she saw the look of alarm on Steve’s face, Sigrid realized she must look as ill-tempered as she felt. The zipper on the hoodie had worked its way down to reveal not a band name, but ‘Bad Motherfucker’ blazoned across her chest.

Seeing Thor and Loki were the ones badgering her date did not improve her mood. She decided to borrow from Nat’s book of plays with a non-threatening tone. “Hey guys.” Thor started to wave. With the same tone, she went on “What the fuck are you two doing here?” Her tone of voice sounded more like _‘Hey guys, would you like some brownies?’_

Thor looked baffled. “What?”

“Why are you interrupting our fucking date?”

Loki looked at Thor then back at Sigrid, “What?”

“What the fuck do you two want?!”

“What?”

She stepped around the couch. Sigrid raised her fist, “Say what again, I dare you. I double dare you!”

Recognition lit up Steve’s features. _Finally, a movie he’d seen!_ Some of the tension left her body. She shook her head tiredly at Thor and Loki who still looked like they weren’t sure what was going on.

“Seriously, speak up or hop back into the handbasket that brought you and go back to where you came from.”

Sigrid sat back down, still grouchy, but unlikely to break anything. Also, she couldn’t keep Pulp Fiction-ing it up now that Steve got it – she was too likely to giggle, which would ruin the effect and probably make them question her sanity if they weren’t already.

Sitting down in one of the chairs at the other side of the conversation pit, she noticed Dr. Strange sitting quietly. Well, the more the merrier – why the hell not? _At least he was quiet._ “Doctor, I’m sorry I didn’t see you there.” A cup of tea materialized in her hand. “Thanks.”

Strange nodded in acknowledgement. “My… colleagues and I wanted to ascertain your well-being.”

“Um, great. I’m fine.” She sipped her tea. Chamomile, soothing, naturally sweet, and most importantly, her favorite. Dr. Strange did not get enough credit for being an all-around awesome dude. Then turning to Thor and Loki, “You guys are really going overboard with the protective relative-brother thing you’ve got going on.”

Steve coughed, “They’re not here because of the date. They’re… um… looking into the ‘activity’ in the park.”

“Hot chocolate?” She really wasn’t at her best without adequate sleep.

Steve shook his head. “The other thing.”

Sigrid’s mouth formed a little ‘o’ of understanding. “Oh, riiight… that. No big.” She waved her hand dismissively.

“‘No big?!’” Loki fumed. “All their little instruments picked up a spike of magical activity and they think it was me!”

Sig rolled her eyes and muttered, “As if – dream on.”

“I’ll have you know –” Loki raised his voice, pointing his finger at her.

Thor pushed Loki’s arm down. “Not now. What’s all this about?”

She looked around at the gathered magic-wielding men of her audience. “Just Steve’s Christmas present.” Thor blushed and Loki blinked, looking a little intimidated. “Want a demo?”

As Steve opened his mouth to clear up the misconceptions, Thor and Loki both shook their heads vigorously in the negative. Dr. Strange said, “Please,” and tented his fingers, elbows on the arms of his chair.

“Understand that this is just for the sake of demonstration. The other one was bigger.” Thor and Loki looked like they were on a runaway train and couldn’t get off.  
Strange nodded. “Understood. Proceed.”

Sigrid held her hands apart, until a small, wispy grey bubble formed between her fingers. Giving it a little toss, she fired a finger gun at it and it burst with a small pop, showering Thor with a silvery powder of snow so fine it looked like glitter.

She thought Strange might give her a lecture on responsible magic-using, but instead, he nodded slowly and stood up, walking over in front of her. “I see. Now you’re feeling fatigued? Hungry?”

“I was hungry, but we ate before you guys showed up. Yes, I’m tired.”

He shone the bright light from his phone into her eyes one at a time. “Pupil response normal.” He felt her forehead, then her neck where human lymph nodes would be. “No fever, no swelling. Do you feel more tired since the demonstration?”

“No, about the same.”

Strange looked at Thor and Loki. “She’ll be fine. I told you this could wait until tomorrow like Rogers suggested.”

“You never –”

Dr. Strange looked at her and his face relaxed slightly, which she assumed was as close to a mischievous grin as he got. The usual ring of orange and yellow sparks opened and Strange was gone.

Both Thor and Loki relaxed with Strange gone and the demonstration over. Some people and their dirty minds….

Thor tried to brush off the snow, but it was so fine, it just sort of spread everywhere. Good-naturedly, Loki said, “That’ll just make it worse,” and looked very pleased that Thor was the recipient of a glitter bomb.

Thor growled and sensing the ‘Responsible Use of Magic’ lecture looming, Sigrid said, “Hold still.” Sigrid stood up, took a few steps closer, and held out her hand. Slowly at first, but then gaining speed, the tiny crystals leapt into her palm.

“Thank you.” Thor cleared his throat, ready to start the sermon.

“Just a second.” Sigrid made a fist around the snow crystals in her hand, packing them firm, then whispered into her fist. “Close your eyes and hold out your hand.”

Warily, Thor held out his hand and Sigrid dropped a miniature Mjolnir made of ice into his palm. “I’m sorry you worried. I won’t do anything so irresponsible again.” Probably… _At least not for a while._

Thor looked at the little hammer in his palm, his face softening as its facets glimmered. “I thought there must be a good reason. I’m very sorry we interrupted your evening.” He paused and in an almost tender voice, “Could you put a little loop on the handle?”

She smiled. “Sure thing.” Done, and kissed him on the cheek. “Thanks for worrying.”

Loki looked irritated. Probably because the glitter wasn’t going to keep vexing Thor for the next week or so. “No lecture?” He paced a few steps and turned again, “Really? She made you a tiny hammer and that’s it?”

Thor grinned, “She knows her audience.”

Loki scowled and glared at her. “No gift for me?”

Sigrid raised her eyebrows, “You want me to give you a present for showing up in the middle of my date?!”

“You gave him one!”

“No, that was a bribe.” She folded her arms across her chest.

Thor studied the little hammer. “It says ‘worthy!’” He was clearly delighted.

Loki folded his arms across his chest, looking at her at first annoyed, then more curious as his mind worked over an idea. “Why?”

“Why what?” Sigrid moved closer to the bar area.

Calculating, “Why not buy something for Rogers when you bought the other gifts?”

Switching to Norwegian for some privacy, Sigrid said, “Han er spesiell. Jeg visste ikke hva han ville ha.” _He’s special. I didn’t know what he’d want._

“Spesiell?" i>Special? Loki raised an eyebrow, giving Rogers a doubtful once-over. “Litt for alvorlig for meg.” _A bit too serious for me._

Sigrid shrugged. “Han kalte meg en gudinne… Jeg ville gi ham noe magisk.” _He called me a goddess… I wanted to give him something magical._ She bit her lips together, looking shy. “Jeg liker ham.” _I like him._

Loki stood, hands on her shoulders, his expression a mixture of pity and vague distaste. “Rogers er så kjedelig,” he complained. _Rogers is so boring._

Thor looked at Steve, pointing to the two cousins. “Norwegian. I have an official translator while I’m learning.” He sighed, “Loki’s always been better at things like that.”

“I read and I practice Thor.” Loki said tiredly, “It’s not difficult.”

Steve looked at Thor, “What are they talking about?”

Thor gave him a blank look. “I didn’t notice. I was admiring the remarkable craftsmanship…” He showed off the hammer pendant to Steve. “Probably you though. Loki keeps looking over here.”

Steve leaned on the counter heavily, looking like he wondered how his great evening had veered so far off course.

Loki leaned forward, resting his forehead on hers, “Er du sikker, lillesøster?” _Are you sure, little sister?_

“Lillesøster?”

“It’s more fun to say than _kusine._ ”

“I can see that. And maybe. Tror du han liker meg?” _Do you think he likes me?_

“By the Norns! Are you blind?! Don’t be an idiot. Of course.”

“I’m not an idiot. Jerk.” Sigrid pushed Loki’s hands away.

Loki rolled his eyes, “I’m on your side. Rogers ser bekymret,” _Rogers looks worried._ Then he looked at her, eyes widening with amazement and mirth, “He doesn’t know?”

“No!” Well, that was louder than intended.

Loki shook his head, delighted, “You are too cruel.” He smiled at her, “You’re worse than I am.”

Sigrid pushed him. “Knock it off.” She looked across the counter at Steve, who did look a tad pensive. Perhaps more than a tad. “Thanks for popping by! Time to go you two.”

Loki nodded reluctantly, as if he wasn’t quite ready to stop tormenting Steve, but he prepared the portal anyway.

Thor pulled her into a half-hug, “Well met!” Then looking at her more seriously, “If you still feel unwell in a few days, perhaps our healer, Lady Eir, will be able to assist you.”

“I’m fine, Thor.” Thor stepped through the portal and into the early morning hours of New Asgard.

Loki grumbled, “It’s not fair everyone lets you off so easily…. They didn’t even apologize to me….”

“I’m sorry they bothered you.” Sigrid kissed him on the cheek. “When are you coming back?”

“Miss me?” He didn’t try very hard not to look both pleased and smug.

Sigrid nodded. “I found a bar I want to take you to.”

Loki’s face softened, “Soon, lillesøster – I’ll bring your gift.”

“Night.”

The brothers departed.

“I should head home too.” Steve pushed himself away from the counter and put on his coat. It looked silly with the track pants, but he seemed to distracted to notice.

She smiled, “You don’t have to go, silly.”

Steve looked up from where he was putting on his shoes, the blue of his eyes darkened, a line between his eyebrows. Anger? “I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing to keep Loki entertained, but I’m not playing anymore.” His voice rose, wounded, “What do you have to do to be more cruel than Loki?”

The color drained from her face, “Steve, that’s not –”

His voice shook with emotion, “You almost had me.” He laughed bitterly, “I can’t believe I almost fell for it.”

Sigrid’s lips trembled, “Please let me explain?”

Steve shook his head, angry and hurt, “Some joke. Hope you’re able to look back and -” His voice cracked and he stopped. She moved forward to put a hand on his arm, but he flinched away. “Don’t touch me.” He shoved the door to the stairwell open.

“Steve? Please don’t go…”

But he was already gone.

Anni’s voice came on through the speakers, “Would you like me to prevent him from leaving?”

Sigrid shook her head no, unable to speak and slowly sank to her knees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm half apologizing for the first of multiple Pulp Fiction references spread out across the stuffs I've been writing. Thanks to Tarantino for being so fucking brilliant! :> I try hard not to put in ALL the pop culture references I think of. But in my mind, the whole thing is like a Quentin Tarantino/Baz Luhrmann tag-team production. hehe 
> 
> So I know it's over the top. Forgive me. pls?? 
> 
> Also, I've used Bing & Google Translate to figure out phrasing for the non-English languages. I blame all my mistakes on them. (haha) Seriously, though, if you let me know, I'll fix any mistakes. :)


	19. Can't Rain All the Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Friends to the rescue. And when one of your besties is N-Ro, you just know the plot's gonna go places. Sneakily!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO, today is the first day of spring break, so I'm gonna post 2 chapters today. Woo! (and to the Bucky fans! your patience has paid off! <3 ). Glad so many people are enjoying this!! :D

Periodically, Sigrid found herself in a different part of the building, her body taking care of itself. Anni talked to her, watched movies with her, and even ordered takeout food for her. The AI seemed to take her role as commiserator very seriously.

Sigrid watched a little bit of a made-for-tv-movie about an elf coming to bring the Christmas spirit to a family in the disguise of a human while trying not to fall for the cute uncle/baby sitter. She watched half a dozen feel-good holiday made for tv movies before extracting herself from the couch.

Discovering it was now late in the evening on Sunday, she decided to go back to her apartment. Sigrid cleaned up the take-out containers and said good-bye to Anni. On the bus back to her apartment, she turned her phone back on. She ignored her text messages. Almost instantly, her phone buzzed.

“Hey Nat.”

“Hey yourself. Where have you been?”

“Figured everybody knew. I just stayed in the common room in the Tower. Anni kept me company.”

“Annie?”

“FRIDAY – I guess it’s her first name.”

“Oh, ok… So all I get out of Steve is ‘don’t ask.’ What the hell happened?”

“A stupid misunderstanding…” she sighed. “Everything was perfect – Steve was charming and funny and sweet. We were having a great time. Walked in the park…”

“Then the ‘activity?’”

“God, can’t you guys just drop that?!” She groaned and then murmured into the phone, “I made it snow for him because he wanted a white Christmas.”

“You guys are so romantic, I feel like I should push a basket of kittens off a table or something. So, what the fuck happened?”

“Well, somebody decided to blame Loki, so he and Thor showed up.” Sigrid heard Nat audibly sigh. “Yeah, Dr. Strange too.”

“Seriously?”

“Right? Yeah, well, long story short, Loki wanted to know why Steve needed a magical present. And we started talking in Norwegian because it’s embarrassing….”

“You mean you didn’t tell Steve how you feel about him.” Nat said flatly. Sigrid could just about hear Natasha’s eyes roll in exasperation.

“No… I wanted to make sure he liked me too.” Nat’s deep, ‘count to ten’ breaths were audible on her end. “So I asked Loki what he thought…” Nat groaned. “No, it was fine – he laughed and said I was an idiot, then he said I was cruel.”

"For not telling Steve?” Nat concluded.

“Yeah.”

“And that part was in English.”

“Yeah.”

“And Loki thought it was funny that you two are hung up on each other, but neither of you had the guts to tell the other.”

“Yup.”

“So now Steve thinks… the worst. God, what the hell am I going to do with you two?”

“So, I can’t explain –”

“Because it’d sound like you were making excuses.”

“And I’ve been watching holiday made-for-tv movies and listening to sad songs since then, ‘cause I don’t know what to do.”

“What _are_ you going to do?”

“Go home. Go to work. Pretend I’m ok.”

“Not much of a plan.”

“Thanks.” Then wearily, “Nat, just leave it, ok? It’s not something we can fix just because we wish we could.”

“If you need me, call me, ok?”

“Will do. Night, Nat.”

Looking across the aisle, she saw a folded newspaper. There on the City page, a large photo of her holding Steve’s hand at Nick’s restaurant. And another of the two of them smiling while he was asking her his quiz questions.

> **Miss December Steals First Avenger’s Heart ******
> 
> ****  
> ** **
> 
> The Post’s mystery woman revealed! Miss Sigrid Vinter (Bronx) seen by our readers at Nick’s with none other than Captain America himself, Steve Rogers. Is it love? Of course, it’s too soon to tell, but sources close to the fun-loving couple see a match written in the stars.
> 
> From our fashion director: Miss Vinter rocks the town in the amethyst Annali cocktail dress by Cinq a Sept. Vintage shoes in plum with fuschia double-breasted wool coat, her own. Her creative up-do and liquid eyeliner give her ensem the irreverent edge she’s becoming known for. Captain Rogers is a walking lesson in classic menswear. Eat your heart out Manhattan. 

**  
**  
****  


_Well, at least my date outfit was on-point._ She picked up the paper and took it with her.

Walk, eat, sleep, wake, dress, work, walk, bus, home, eat, sleep. Repeat. Midway through her lunch shift Tuesday, her phone rang. _Barnes. Dude, leave me alone._ Not in the mood.

“Hello?”

“Hey,” he sounded surprised she answered, “um, what’s new?”

“Not much.” Get to the point already.

“So, you gonna tell me why Stevie spent the weekend running around the block and punching things instead of in bed with you?”

Instantly she felt about a hundred years older – a hundred Asgardian years older, even. “We had a misunderstanding.”

“A misunderstanding is when somebody brings you bourbon instead of scotch.”

“It’s a long story…”

“Gimme the short version.”

Sigrid went out into the alley where fewer cooks and dishwashers were eavesdropping. “Steve thinks I was just toying around with him to amuse myself because I’m a terrible person.”

“Well?”

She tried not to sound hostile, “Well, I’m a terrible person, sure – I’m fucking poison to everybody who gets close enough.” Sigrid was still feeling sullen, which was totally a step up from utterly wretched and semi-despondent.

“That’s not what I meant! I mean, you’re crazy about him, right?”

“Yeah.” She sighed. “Yeah, I am,” Sigrid closed her eyes and tried to swallow the surge of sorrow that made her throat clench and her stomach drop. Then suspiciously, “‘Source close to the fun-loving couple….’”

“Um, sorry about that. Too much champagne?”

“Whatever. Can I go back to being miserable now?”

“Almost. What’re you going to do about it?”

“It’s not my fault! I’m going to get drunk tonight and then stumble home.” She paused to control her temper and sighed, “I’m sorry… you know it’s kinda weird talking to you about him?”

“He’s done the same for me before. Well, before… you know.” James paused, “I thought Asgardians couldn’t get drunk on our booze.”

“Just takes dedicated effort.”

“Oh…” Barnes sounded like he wasn’t sure where to go with that.

“We done?” _Please?_

“Yeah, chin up, ok? It’ll all work out, _Snegurochka._ ”

Hearing the nickname felt like a hug from an old friend. “Thanks JB.” Sigrid heard him say something to somebody else in the background, then he hung up.

From the kitchen, “Sigrid! Order up!”

She may have had a nip from a pocket flask before returning to work.


	20. N-Ro Uses Her Super Spy Powers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve sulks. And everybody else tries to move the fuck on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised! :)

Toweling off after his hair after a post-run shower, Steve was a little surprised to hear Bucky talking on the phone since Barnes had just gotten back from taking Sharon to lunch. Steve got dressed and went to the kitchen for a glass of water.

Then he heard Bucky say, “Yeah, chin up, ok? It’ll all work out, _Snegurochka._ ” Bucky looked up and put his hand over the mic on his phone, “Hey Steve, good run?”

 _What?_ Why was he on the phone with _her_? Steve’s mind raced with possibilities. Much more calmly than he felt, he said, “Who are you talking to?”

Bucky took a closer look at the look in Steve’s eyes, “Ah… friend?”

Steve’s fist shot out, clocking Bucky in the jaw, sending him sprawling off the arm of the sofa where he’d been sitting. “You two-timing…” Steve’s fists landing blow after blow.

“Stubborn punk!” Bucky shoved Steve off and knocked him back into the coffee table, which splintered like balsa wood. Both men grunting as they grappled with each other. “You fucking broke her heart!”

“Me?! Ha!” He tried to sweep Bucky’s feet out from under him, but Bucky brought his foot down on Steve’s knee. Steve snarled and planted his fist in his friend’s side. “She lied to me!”

Bucky brought a fist up under Steve’s jaw, the teeth clacking together. “You believe that, you’re –” and knocking him back with a left hook to the cheek, “dumber than you look!”

They scuffled, punching each other and causing havoc in Steve’s living room.

“Hey guys…” in Natasha’s casual voice, “Redecorating?” She raised an eyebrow and sat on Steve’s kitchen counter, sipping a cup of coffee. “Sorry, don’t let me interrupt you. Just came by for coffee.” As if that was a thing she did.

At that particular moment, Steve was kneeling on top of Bucky. They were both sweating. _How long had they been fighting?_ He let his fist drop to his side. “Oh, uh… hi Natasha.” Steve wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Yeah, um. Help yourself.”

Steve stood, and Bucky got up, glaring at him and gave him an extra shove. “You need to get your head examined, jerk.” He stalked off to clean up.

Natasha assessed Steve over her coffee cup. “Barnes might be on to something, you know.”

Steve shook his head. “I just can’t –”

“Admit you might be wrong?”

He looked at her, “Are you here as her friend or mine?”

Natasha rolled her eyes. “Don’t be so melodramatic. You taking her to the Nutcracker tonight?”

Steve’s stomach dropped and his heart clenched in his chest. “I wasn’t planning on it.” He’d been so upset, he’d forgotten about it. _Something else obsess about. Great._ “Listen, I appreciate what you’re trying to do.”

“Tell me you’ve at least talked to all the witnesses.” She spoke matter-of-factly and sipped her coffee.

“I’m not asking Loki.”

“Mhm.”

“And Thor doesn’t speak Norwegian.”

“And?”

“Right now, I can’t take Sigrid’s word as proof.” Steve folded his arms over his chest.

“Uh-huh…. What about the other one?”

“Huh? Nobody else was there. Strange left before that.”

Natasha closed her eyes, conveying both irritation and the kind of patience reserved for small children. “Well, I’ve meddled enough here. See ya later, Steve.” She gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder.

Steve couldn’t help wondering if she’d planted some kind of tracking device on him or a bug (well, _another_ bug) to keep tabs on him while he wasn’t paying attention. After a brief search found nothing new, he sat down to watch some TV – he was really getting into _Game of Thrones_ and had some catching up to do (like multiple seasons). He was not going to worry right now about Natasha and her sphinx riddles. The fate of Westeros was on the line.

Bucky reappeared, cleaned up and a fresh shirt. “I’m going out.”

Steve nodded and gave a half salute.

>>>>>>>>>>

 _No good deed goes unpunished._ Today was a day Bucky wished that Steve did something everybody else did when they were unhappy. Drink? Smoke some pot maybe. Eat too much ice cream. Bake. Apparently, you could combine baking and pot. _Who knew?_ The twenty-first century, man – what a trip.

On the other hand, if Steve listened to that goddamn ‘Jar of Hearts’ song one more time, James would not be held responsible for his actions. Still, Steve didn’t need to be such a jerk all the time. He could’ve just said something about her a long time ago – jealousy like that didn’t just crop up over a couple of weekends, after all. So because Steve liked her and was mad at her, that meant that he – Bucky – couldn’t call as a friend to check on her?

Bucky’d seen the way she looked at Steve, the way her whole face lit up. The same way Steve looked at her. Nobody else in the world existed. And he’d been trying to be a good friend about the fact that they were completely smitten with each other. Steve absolutely fucking deserved a break in the love department. It’d be a hell of a lot easier though if he’d fallen for _literally_ any other girl in the world other than the one who wrestled in the snow with Bucky in his dreams.

That train of thought led down a whole other rabbit hole. _Did she kiss Steve with those sharp, frosty kisses?_

He walked slowly to the coffee shop a few blocks ahead. As he approached, he got a call.

“Hi Sharon-” As traitorous as his dreams were, Bucky really did like Sharon. She was a little bit like a female Steve – but in a good way – and he was enjoying getting to know her. “We still on for later?” He’d been looking forward to it – and not just because it was a respite from Christina Perri’s ‘Jar….’

“Why don’t you tell me?” She sounded unexpectedly hostile.

“Sharon?”

“I just got off the phone with –” _Steve._ Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, he was really salting the fucking earth here. Sharon went on, not yelling or anything, but definitely upset.

“Can I explain?”

“Please, go ahead.” The sound of a woman who’d already made up her mind.

“I just called her to check on her – you saw the two of them Friday. They’re crazy about each other.”

“He said you were calling her some cute nickname.”

“Everybody knows that name – _Snegurochka._ ” He lowered his voice, “It’s like people calling me the Winter Solider. Not a big deal.” It’d felt good to call her that, though, and he thought Sigrid had sounded more relaxed at the end of the call. Not that Sharon needed to know that part.

Sharon sighed, “I wish I could believe you… I need some time to think about this.”

“You’re breaking our date?”

“Yeah. I’ve got to get back to work.” _Work?_ Even if his innocence was proven beyond reasonable doubt, if _work_ was the excuse to get him off the phone, he didn’t think she’d call again.

Bucky hated breathing exercises, but they did give him something else to focus on other than say smashing newspaper vending machines or scaring the shit out of old ladies.

“Hey Buddha, need a ride?” Natasha pulled up, window down.

He folded his arms and tilted his head, looking unamused. “Sorry, don’t take rides with strange women.”

“Get in the car Barnes.”

He did. After a moment and in spite of his bad mood, he asked her, “Are you a scrub if you pick people up by catcalling them if you’re in your own car?”

Natasha whacked his chest with the back of her hand. “No.”

James’ mouth tugged up at the corners into an almost-smile, “Just checking.”

She glared at him for a second, then relaxed – as much as she ever did. “So the mailbox get in your way or something? You were lookin’ kinda scary there.” He remembered his phone call and that Steve was pissing him off. “Yeah, like that.”

“Sharon won’t go out with me anymore because Captain fucking Eagle Scout told her I called Sigrid.”

“Did you?”

“Yeah, but just to make sure she’s ok. You saw the paper?”

“Yeah…”

“Was even cuter in person.” Almost like chibis in manga cute. _Manga: best part of the twenty-first century, no lie. Possibly even better than theoretical pot brownies._

Natasha made a noise that was half-entertained and half-impatient with young romance. “Just to check on her.”

“To make sure she’s ok.”

“And?”

“She sounded pretty cut up about it, so I said, ‘chin up _Snegurochka._ ’”

Nat nodded. “Yeah ok.”

He looked at her. “Not why you picked me up?”

“No,” she leveled her gaze at James. “I need to ask you a favor.”

“Yeah, I suppose I owe you. What’s up?”

“You can say no if you want to.”

“All right… so tell me already.”

“I know this girl at work who has tickets to the Nutcracker tonight.”

“The ballet?” He said skeptically.

“Yeah, the guy she was gonna take flaked on her and she needs a date.”

“She asked you to fix her up with a date?” Natasha Romanov wasn’t the first person who sprang to mind when one thought, _‘matchmaker.’_

“No, she asked if Bruce and I wanted to go.” She explained, “She brings me coffee sometimes. She’s sweet, you’d like her. I think she deserves a break.” Natasha watched the road ahead of her, not looking at him. “You in?”

Bucky ran his fingers through his hair. “Yeah, all right.” He paused, “As long as you didn’t set all this up with Sharon….”

“Nope, just worked out that way.”

They pulled up outside a St. Vincent de Paul store. “Why are we here?”

Natasha gave him the once over. “That outfit’s not going to fly for the ballet.”

“So we’re at the secondhand store?”

“ _Thrift shop._ For vintage stuff. She’ll be impressed.”

“I don’t care if she’s impressed or not.”

“Promise me you’re going to make more of an effort than that.” Nat poked his chest, unspoken threats in her eyes.

He nodded.

“Good.”

After fifteen minutes, he was starting to get into it. He’d rejected the plaid suit out of hand. Then still mad about Steve and Sharon, he started thinking about this girl’s boyfriend, “What kind of a guy dumps his girl a week before Christmas?”

Nat shrugged, “I’m sure he has his reasons.”

“Sounds like a punk to me,” he grumbled.

After an hour of shopping, Natasha was satisfied with their purchases and how they fit him. Then it was time to take the plum jacket and vest combo, shirt, and charcoal pinstripe pants to the one-hour cleaners. He buffed the alligator shoes himself.

When he’d pressed Natasha on why the alligator shoes were so important, she just told him, “Just trust me, Barnes.”

While waiting for the cleaners, Natasha and Bucky got coffee. “So, what’s she like?” he asked, curious.

Nat shrugged. “She’s got shit luck with guys. Likes music. Dancing.”

“Ok…”

“She’s cute, funny. Takes a while to warm up to people, though. Can be little reserved if she doesn’t know you.”

“What does she do at work?”

“Officially, she’s a consultant, but I think they just hired her because she’s some big shot’s kid.”

“Ohh.”

“She’s not stuck-up about it Barnes.”

He swirled the coffee in his cup, thinking. “You really think it’s a good idea to set her up with an assassin? Seems like that’s not really better.”

“ _Retired_ assassin. And so you’re trained as an assassin, it’s not like it was in your ten-year plan when you joined the service.”

“I was a sniper.”

“War-time. You’re splitting hairs.”

He grumbled doubtfully, “Still seems like a lot could go wrong.” And a strong premise for a tell-all book. _My Date with a Madman._ Probably stronger titles, but he’d have to put more thought into it.

“You can handle this James. Glazá bojátsja, a rúki délajut.” _You never know what you can do unless you try_ – it literally translated something closer to, ‘The eye fears, but the hand does.’ “If you’re worried, I can handle dinner and you can meet her at the Ballet….”

“Nah, that’s a cop out.”

Nat smiled, “Good man. Where you gonna take her?”

James thought. Well, he wanted her to have a good time, forget about her ex for a while. “Maybe a French restaurant?”

“I know a place in Harlem. _Chez Lucienne._ Good food, reasonably priced for the soldier on a budget.”

“If that’s too lame…”

“No, I think she’ll like it. It’ll be a pleasant surprise.” Natasha sipped her coffee looking amused, “I didn’t know you were such a romantic Barnes.”


	21. You With the Sad Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poor Bucky. Blind dates are even more hellish when you're prone to anxiety attacks. :<
> 
> Also, I like to sound out non-English words when I'm reading, so I used an online translator to translate the Cyrillic characters into Latin characters. I apologize to any readers who do read Russian. Also, if I've made mistakes with the Russian (or French), I apologize! Please let me know and I'll gladly make the corrections! :D

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song she's singing is "True Colors" by Billy Steinberg and Tom Kelly, performed by Cyndi Lauper and more recently by Justin Timberlake and Anna Kendrick.
> 
> Natasha's quoting Wayne's World and the wise man she's referring to is Wayne. (hehehe)

James had asked very nicely twice to be seated in the back of the restaurant.

The first time he’d gotten, “No, no! Your lady won’t like that!” and been shown to a table right in the middle of the place. Couldn’t even sit with his back to the wall. And the waiter had fucking smiled.

The second time, the waiter had laughed and told him not to be so nervous – his lady wouldn’t be able to see him at the back of the restaurant. “Ladies don’t want to sit next to the kitchen! Too noisy!”

What James wanted to tell them was that ‘his lady’ wouldn’t like it if he had a panic attack either, but couldn’t bring himself to insist – he didn’t want to come off as too aggressive or too nervous ( _or off his rocker…_ ). Instead, his heart hammered in his chest. Goddamn, but he was never going to do another favor for Natalya if he lived _another_ hundred years.

James had arrived only a few minutes early, but it seemed like he’d been waiting for years. The restaurant really wasn’t that large, but he’d either carried out or debriefed enough café-type attacks, that waiting was excruciating. _Stop looking at the clock._ It’d only been seven minutes. The distance between his position and the exits seemed to stretch and he felt his lungs constricting.

He felt like he might throw up and swallowed several times to avoid it. _Breathe in through the mouth and out through the nose. Swallow._ The ticking of his watch sounded so loud and then there were all the people talking, the kitchen door crashing open and swooshing closed again.

He closed his eyes and tried to remind himself of the statistical odds of some kind of attack actually happening. Again, experience was his enemy. Trying to force air into his lungs and think about something other than hand grenades and drive by shootings. Smoke, screaming, chaos.

“Privet, krasavčik. Fantazii vstreči s vami zdes’.” _Hey handsome. Fancy meeting you here._

James’ eyes shot open and remembered Natalya saying, _‘You’ll know her when you see her.’_ And there was deliverance – wearing gold and silver sequins – Sigrid. He stood up so fast that his chair squeaked and the table wobbled.

She was talking to the waiter now, asking if the tables in the back were taken. She ordered an appetizer and a bottle of wine and said they’d take a walk and come back in a few minutes while they set up the other table, pressing a couple of bills into the waiter’s hand as a good faith gesture.

Sigrid offered him her hand and they walked out of the restaurant, through the empty al fresco dining area, and around the corner into the alley. He accepted gratefully, as the edges of his vision were getting hazy. In the alley, though, with the cool air and the rain, the struggle in his body between getting air into his lungs and keeping the contents of his stomach in place ended. Air won. On the plus side, he didn’t pass out. On the other hand, he was now hurling into a trash can in front of the woman he least wanted to see him like this.

Sigrid held a large black umbrella over him. She was speaking angrily in Russian to Natasha. ‘What were you thinking, _sestra_?” He tuned out for a moment. But the conversation wasn’t going where he thought it would. It wasn’t a _‘why did you send me out with this loser?’_ argument – Sigrid was angry because Nat hadn’t called the restaurant to reserve a table in the back.

“How would you feel if it was you, sitting – exposed like that – in the middle of a strange place?!” Listening for a moment, then, “Yes, but you were _On. A. Mission._ Not waiting for a blind date.”

Sigrid listened again and apparently satisfied with Natasha’s response, she said, “He’ll be fine. Everything’s all right. It’s handled.” Then with a smile in her voice, “I know you do Nat.” Pause, then, “Makin’ memories, my ass. You’re the one into scrapbooking. Later.”

Trying to picture Natasha Romanov – the Black Widow – at home with those little zigzag scissors and glue dots, scrapbooking the events of her life – even just the relatively tame parts – was so absurd that James laughed.

Sigrid smiled at him. “Feeling better?”

He nodded, still not quite up for speech.

She asked, “Vam pomoč’?” _Can I help?_

He nodded slowly, wary. Usually this was when people started using their Hulk lullaby voice or a tone for frightened children or growling dogs, _Hey, hey… It’s all right… Nobody’s going to hurt you._ Liars.

Instead she handed him her umbrella. “Hold on to that.” He took the umbrella, body tense, waiting for the other shoe to drop. She came closer, “Forehead on my shoulder.” He bent his head forward and realized she was wearing boots that made her a few inches taller than him. She put a cool hand on the back of his neck, the other on the side of his neck.

The cold air outside and her cooling touch helped unwind the knots of tension inside him. It was a little bit like the cold calm of being frozen without all the terror. The post-attack wave of relief was almost as overwhelming as the panic attacks themselves. Vomiting and now literally crying on her shoulder wasn’t at all how he’d planned this evening to go. _So much for smooth._ Forget  smooth, so much for _normal._

What was she saying? She was _singing_ to him. “…The darkness inside you can make you feel so small.” She offered him a handkerchief, a real one, not paper tissues. Sigrid sang softly, slowly,  


> Show me a smile then  
>  Don't be unhappy, can't remember  
>  When I last saw you laughing  
>  If this world makes you crazy  
>  And you've taken all you can bear  
>  Just call me up  
>  ‘Cause I will always be there.  
> 

After a moment, he took couple of experimental deep breaths with no adverse effects: chest felt normal, no strangling feeling, emotions under control again, heart rate slowing, time and distance seemed to be working again. Just the headache that always followed starting to creep up and make itself known. He looked up and squared his shoulders trying not to feel ashamed.

James didn’t want to look in her eyes and see pity. Just _please,_ not that. Looking at her, he saw tear tracks down her cheeks. In her eyes, he saw the silver reflecting not just his fear, but her own fears and sorrows too. Not pity. He offered her the handkerchief folded in his breast pocket. _‘Pocket square’ my ass._ “You wanna go home?”

Wiping her eyes carefully, Sigrid gave him a look, “Are you nuts? I gave that guy fifty bucks! We’d better have a cheese plate and bottle waiting or I’m gonna be pissed.” She paused, then added more softly, “If you wanna go, though, I don’t care about the money.”

He shook his head. If she was game, well, what the hell. They headed back inside and after both freshening up, sat down at their table in the farthest back corner available. It was amazing how much more secure he felt being able to see the entire place at once. Wine and cheese had indeed made an appearance. The waiter had brought over his overcoat too.

Natasha had been sending him text messages.

‘You ok?’

‘Now that I’m done puking, peachy.’

‘I am so sorry.’ Natasha apologizing… Wow.

Then Natasha sent a longer message, ‘wise man said - If you blow chunks and she comes back, she's yours. But if you spew and she bolts, then it was never meant to be.

James snorted. When Sigrid looked over, he said, “Natasha’s apologizing.” To Natasha, he typed, ‘she held the umbrella.’

‘wtg hero. ;)’ _Emojis?_ This was getting surreal. He put his phone away.

James finally got a good look at Sigrid. She’d worn the same pink (the article called it magenta, but pink’s pink) coat as she had Friday. Now that they were inside, though, she’d taken that off and was wearing a sleeveless dress with diagonal stripes of gold and silver sequins in wide alternating bands. It ended mid-thigh. Her boots were something else – almost up to the knee – and those heels had to be five inches, easy.

Sigrid turned her foot, so he could get a better look. Teasing, “Didn’t know you were into footwear, JB.” She bobbed her foot. 

“I’m not.” But legs like that? _Wow._ In boots like those? Like gift wrap…

“Coulda fooled me…” she muttered, eyebrow raised. “Feet?” She wrinkled her nose.

“No. Toes are just… weird looking.” He could feel a blush rising, “You’ve got nice legs is all.”

“Oh. Well yeah. That’s not so fun to tease about, though.” She leaned forward, conspiratorially, “I tend to agree with you.” She winked.

He was thinking over Natalya’s description of Sigrid. All of the things had been true – at least as far as he knew. “You bring Natalya coffee?”

She looked up, “Huh? Yeah. Sometimes, when they’re in the office for a long time. Some of those folks like early meetings so they can loop in European offices.” She breathed on her fist and polished it on her chest, hamming up being proud of herself. “Yeah, countless lives saved with the timely application of coffee and donuts.” She tapped herself on the chest and mouthed ‘All me,’ then rolled her eyes and laughed. “What made you think of that?”

“Nat didn’t tell me who I was meeting… She was talking up this blind date girl and that was one of the things she mentioned.” He shrugged. It’d be really nice to feel less awkward right now.

A thoughtful expression crossed Sigrid’s face as she munched a piece of baguette with cheese. “Mmm – this baguette is fantastic! Tout comme Paris!” _Just like Paris!_

He was skeptical. James knew he’d been in France after the war, but his memories of it were hazy. He remembered Sam Sawyer from the Howling Commandos trying to teach him a little bit of French though – most of that had been either completely practical or spectacularly rude. But now, James understood a lot of the language. Where the knowledge came from, though, he could only guess.

Those thoughts floated through his mind, but noticed Sigrid wave the unbitten side of her bread and cheese under his nose. “Try some.” He took a bite and then she popped the rest into her mouth, closing her eyes, “Bread that delicious is good for the soul.”

The bread was damn good. No joke. They took turns tearing pieces off for each other (and themselves) and refilling the wine. They turned the conversation to what they should order for dinner and argued the pros and cons of Le Coq au Vin vs. Le Boeuf Bourgignon. But what about _saumon a la sauce champagne?_

“Chicken and fish?" His vote.

“No….beef and the mussels.” Hers.

“You just had mussels the other day!”

“Not with dijon mustard and shallots!” She crossed her arms looking vexed. The problem was that they both had two things they wanted – and wanted to share some of whatever the other got.

“So let’s come back tomorrow for lunch.”

She smiled, “Bucky Barnes – are you asking me on a date?”

He shook his head and grinned, unable to resist, “Hoping to wind up our evening.”

Sigrid tipped back her head and laughed. Her laughter, so musical and genuine. James tipped his head to the side and gave her a lop-sided grin.

They decided on the chicken and beef for two reasons: first, that they could just order a second bottle of the wine they’d just finished and second, that the salmon and mussels sounded a little lighter and like they’d go better with mimosas or champagne as a lunchy brunch.

They alternated between talking (almost exclusively centered around food) and enjoying a companionable silence while they ate.

He asked her, “So you’re sort of Norwegian – do you like that stinky fish thing they do?”

“Lutefisk?”

“That’s the one.”

“It’s a traditional delicacy,” she said with a snobbish expression that crumbled into honesty, “Not really. There’s other stinky foods that are better.”

“Like?”

“Cheese."

“Kimchi.”

“Aw! You like kimchi?”

In the end, he explained how he’d tried it because a cooking manga he read kept talking about it and he wondered what it was like.

“Can I borrow the first volume?”

“I just checked them out from the library.”

And then their plans for Wednesday grew. After lunch, a trip to the main branch of the library downtown. She’d said, ‘Photos with the lions – mandatory.’

The cooking manga and talking about their library experiences here in New York led to her talking about the first book she’d ever seen, other books she’d read. Had he read Harry Potter? No, not yet, but had _she_ read the Percy Jackson series?

And on. Through the cab ride past Central Park to the New York City Ballet.

In line at the Ballet, Sigrid asked, “Did I tell you that’s a good look for you JB?”

“Hm?”

“You really went all out, huh?” She gestured at his chin, “Shaved and everything. I’m impressed.” Then giving him a thorough once over, she said, “Are those alligator shoes?”

“Yeah, I don’t get it, but Nat said they were important.”

The rest of their time in line was spent watching Macklemore videos on Sigrid’s phone. The ballet performance itself was amazing. Having held a very physical job for the better part of seventy years, he could appreciate the dancers’ control all the more.

James was going to make a comment about the women springing off their toes during the _Waltz of the Snowflakes_ , and turned to tell Sigrid, but her expression was so far away and forlorn that the comment died on his lips. He’d been so caught up in his own issues and then in their conversation, that it hadn’t quite occurred to him that she was supposed to be here with Steve.

He covered her hand with his and curled his fingers between hers. He whispered, “Vy na kraju sveta?” _Are you at the other end of the world?_

“Da, prosti.” _Yes, sorry._ She smiled sadly and squeezed his fingers.


	22. Remember, Barnes - Dedication

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The couple finish their date. :>

They watched the rest of the performance and stepped outside about ten o’clock. He offered her his arm and she slipped her hand around his elbow. He’d felt kind of useless in the theater, but outside, she had perked up again.

“Where next, doll?” When Sigrid gave him a funny look, James said, “The world’s your oyster – whatever you want.” When she raised her eyebrows skeptically, he added, “For you,” eyes twinkling, “I’d even go to New Jersey.”

She laughed and as she thought about it some of the tension ebbed. “I wanna dance.”

When James started to shake his head no, Sigrid put her hand on her hip, “No, no, no, no, no… You just said, _‘whatever you want.’_ Now I wanna dance, so let’s go.”

James envisioned the kind of nightclubs he’d seen on TV, all loud music and people sort of wriggling around like stationary jellyfish. _Not my thing.…_ But she was right, so he smiled and hailed a cab. Sigrid gave an address to the cab driver and they drove toward Brooklyn.  


The cab stopped in front of a dive bar with several rough-looking tattooed guys standing in front. James and Sigrid got out of the cab. The guys in front straightened as if to intimidate them into leaving. Then the one with a scar on his chin looked at Sigrid intently. “Sigrid?” Scar looked her up and down critically, “What’s with the get-up?”

“Hey Neil. What’s new?” She gave Scar a high-five and fist bump. Then she made introductions, “Neil this is JB. JB, Neil.”

Neil/Scar appraised James skeptically and looked at Sigrid again. “Boyfriend?”

“A friend.”

Neil grunted as if he’d heard this before and looked at James sympathetically. Sigrid entered the bar and as James followed, he heard Neil mutter, “Good luck pal.”

Inside, the patrons looked to be a combination of punks and people dressed in what they called retro vintage – sort of like the 40s, but he’d never seen so many polka dots all in one place before in his life. She ordered drinks, “Singapore Sling and a Scurvy Dog!”

 _Otto’s Shrunken Head Tiki Bar and Lounge._ Well, this was out of his usual circle of haunts – not that the circle was particularly large these days. However, he could hear music in the back of the bar. Not a song he knew, but definitely one he could dance to. Trumpets were usually a good sign these days.

Sigrid handed him a beverage in a ceramic pirate cup. He sipped and whistled. “Wow!”

She smiled, “If this place doesn’t put you under the table, it can’t be done.”

They headed back to the dance floor where a DJ was spinning a combination of early rock music and newer swing music and rockabilly. Sigrid approached the DJ and air-kissed him hello. “A little Movits! later maybe?” The guy shrugged good-naturedly, and Sig drifted back to James.

“Drink up, soldier!” The butterscotch schnapps and cinnamon vodka concoction went down very easily. He didn’t usually order such sweet drinks. The spicy kick of cinnamon really set it off, though.

“What’s in yours?”

“Cherry drink and gin. And some more gin. Maybe a little more gin to tie it all together. Remember Barnes – _dedication._ ” She winked.

When the drums and brass fired up as the next song started, James took Sigrid’s hand and they started dancing. They walked, kicked, and twirled their way around the dance floor.

Then another guy cut in and a girl with bobbed dark hair and half-sleeve tattoos took his hand and the dancing continued. After a couple of songs, they were able to dance together again. It was hard to mind too much when she was clearly having a great time.

James went to refill their drinks and came back to Neil tossing Sigrid over his tattooed shoulder, where she rolled off with a flip and landed on her feet. He twirled her around again and slid her between his legs where he stepped over her and pulled her up into a jump. Sigrid hopped and jazz-hand waved with the hand that wasn’t holding Neil’s. He’d never seen anyone he _knew_ dance like that. And that guy moved pretty smoothly for someone with a neck that thick. He spun her out and she dance-strutted over to James, spotting him looking awkward holding two glasses.

She deposited herself next to James. “Howdy soldier! One of those for me?”

He handed her the new Singapore Sling with her name on it. “I didn’t know you could dance like that.”

Sigrid waggled her eyebrows at him. “The real question is can you?”

“I don’t know… I haven’t danced this much since, wow… before I went overseas.”

She sipped her drink and shimmied her shoulders in time to the music. Smiling, “I hope you’re having fun.”

Even with the partner swapping he was – and it seemed like that was mostly to give courage to hesitant dancers. Also, he’d said ‘wow’ out loud twice in an hour – a slippery slope to ‘jeepers.’ He needed to slow down with these drinks – they were stronger than they seemed at first. It was like the booze sort of nodded at the super soldier serum like a passing acquaintance and then promptly ran roughshod over his brain.

He slid an arm around her waist. “Nowhere else I’d rather be, _Snegurochka._ ”

Sigrid kissed him, her lips tasting like cherry, slightly tinted from her drink. “I’m glad you approve.” She ran her fingers through his hair. Since the Ballet, he’d pretty much written off the possibility of a more _physical_ end to their evening, but he _had_ promised her whatever she wanted, after all.

They danced and drank. The DJ finished his sets at midnight and then people put money in the jukebox with more variety, but still generally sticking with the night’s theme. Mercifully, she paid their tab. He had no idea how many drinks they actually consumed. She called an Uber when the bartender rang the bell for last call, sometime after 3 AM.

James woke sometime the next day (probably) slightly hungover and in an apartment that made his Bucharest apartment seem spacious. In fact, this was possibly the smallest apartment he’d been in since he deployed in 1943. He looked in the other direction to see Sigrid sleeping with a very determined look on her face, corners of her mouth turned down in a slight pout.

He did sort of hazily remember fooling around. The more he thought about it, the more details filled in. Her fierce kisses, the way she moaned and then bit his shoulder. How she’d raked her fingernails down his back…

He carefully lifted the arm Sigrid had draped across his chest and tucked it next to him so he could slip out of bed and into the bathroom. Very sleepily, she mumbled, “Don’t go.”

“I’m just trying to get to your bathroom. It’s like two feet away.”

Sigrid’s eyebrows raised, but her eyes didn’t open. Her mumbles died away into soft, regular breathing.

He took a brief shower and after drying off, tucked the towel around his waist and made his way to her kitchenette. _Damn._ Steve said she lived on crackers and cup noodle, but James had assumed he was exaggerating. Nope. He ate a handful of Cheez-Its, popped a couple of aspirin and drank a glass of water, then got back in bed, falling back asleep almost immediately.

He woke up to a freshly showered Sigrid tracing the line of his collarbone with her fingertips. “Hey, sleepy. Want some toast?”

She wasn’t perky or loud. Her voice was gentle enough that if he hadn’t been close to waking on his own, he wouldn’t have heard.

“Toast?” she repeated, waggling a couple of brown squares at him.

“What?” Not at his finest first thing, pre-caffeine.

She handed him the toast plain with butter and a cup of coffee and sat next to him on her bed with a plate and cup of her own. Sigrid rested her head on his shoulder nibbling her own toast. Setting his cup on the small nightstand next to her bed, he put his arm around her and kissed the top of her head.

That was when he realized that she was only wearing a t-shirt. Sigrid noticed him noticing. “But first, coffee…” she winked, still looking a little bit sleepy. Sig moved to her armchair and crossing her legs, rested her feet on her tiny table. Stretched out like this, she finished her toast and drank her coffee. He tried not to ogle too much, but the coffee was taking its sweet time with kicking in, so his brain wasn’t quite running at full capacity yet.

The phone next to her foot buzzed and she answered. “Hello?” She looked a little blearily at the phone, “What are you talking about – I’m still waking up here, dude.” Then James saw her blush from the roots of her hair down her neck. “Oh? It is? Oh….”

Sigrid handed him the phone. His phone. “It’s for you.”

James said, “Hello?”

“Hey man, we were starting to wonder if we needed to send a search party to find you.” Sam. _Super._ Sam’s voice sounded like he couldn’t figure out if he was more entertained or annoyed.

“Nope, I’m fine.”

Sam muttered something that sounded like, “I’ll bet you are,” but said, “I’ll mark you down as ‘checked in’ for today then.” Then after a pause, he said, “So why are you with Steve’s girl?”

God, where did Sam get his gossip? Someone needed to get this guy up to speed. “Steve broke up with her Friday night.” And before Sam could ask the next obvious question, James added, “Sharon called me yesterday to-”

“Aw man, sorry to hear that. You two were really cute together.”

“Um, thanks.” Even though it was over, it was nice to hear somebody say so. Much better than hearing the murmured _‘she could do so much better…’s_ behind his back.

After hanging up with Sam, James hit flipped through the screens and saw that he had messages. He looked up guiltily at Sigrid, but she just watched him, looking relaxed and sipping her coffee. “Take your time, Sarge.”

He must’ve looked at her funny because she laughed, “You’ve got that ‘duty calls’ look.” She half-frowned and tried to wrinkle up her forehead, trying to imitate a masculine brooding expression. “It’s fine – I’m just gonna sit here without a care in the world.”

Steeling himself to look at the messages, he said, “Liar,” good naturedly.

Sigrid stuck out her tongue at him and went back to her coffee.

Messages at a glance… Steve really hoping he’s all right blah, blah, blah…

Nat hoping they had a good time since they’re still incommunicado. He texted her back. ‘Great time. Dancing. Wicked drinks.’

Two messages from Sharon, one just ‘hey’ and the other ‘call me?’ and she’d called twice, but not left a voicemail. He sighed.

“What’s up?”

“Sharon called.”

“That’s good, right?”

James looked up again at Sigrid, who had started getting dressed. He shrugged, “Hell if I know.”

Sigrid sat down next to him on the bed. “Hey, don’t think I didn’t notice the two of you the other day. That look on your face when she wasn’t watching – _‘Hmmm… This could work…’_ ” He opened his mouth to speak, but she put a finger over his lips, “I know hope when I see it, JB.”

They sat there for a moment, shoulder to shoulder leaning on each other. Then a thought occurred to him and he burst out laughing.

Sigrid punched him in the shoulder, “Hey, I thought we were having a moment or something….”

He tried to keep a straight face and failed, then haltingly, between fits of laughter, he said, “I was just thinkin’ that it’s pretty funny you and I being each other’s safe bet.” The idea of him, the hundred-year-old assassin – the fucking Winter Soldier no less – being somebody’s romantic fallback safety net was just hilarious. And her – a thousand-year-old alien lovechild – some one’s endgame if the _riskier_ relationship didn’t go well?

She stared at him for a moment, her mind working through it and then her lips started to twitch. Sigrid tried not to laugh out loud, but as she tapped her chest and then patted his metal arm, she caved to the giggles.

After several minutes, they both lay gasping, sides aching and the corners of their mouths burning from smiling too much. She said, “We need matching t-shirts or something,” which led to more snickering (him) and giggles (her).

When Sigrid caught her breath, she asked, “Gonna call her?”

He nodded. “You gonna call Steve?”

Sighing, she said, “I guess it won’t hurt anything.”

He looked at her then and kissed her, long and unhurried, fingers twined in her hair. Each memorizing the other’s taste, lips, scent. He murmured, “Ty zamechatel'naja _Segurochka._ ” _You’re wonderful._

She smiled sentimentally, “Ja ljublju tebja set' bezopasnosti.” _I love you Safety Net._

He brushed the hair out of her eyes. Softly, “Ljublju tebja slishkom bezopasnyj dom.” _Love you too Safehouse._

Sigrid kissed him gently, “Bylá ne bylá, eh JB?” _Whatever happens, happens._

He nodded and kissed her on the forehead.

She stroked his cheek fondly with the back of her hand and got up. Sigrid dug through the pile of clothes under the rack for hanging up dresses and jackets. She tossed him the big hoodie she’d found at Avengers Tower and a larger t-shirt with the artwork from the original A Clockwork Orange dustjacket.

Holding it up, he said, “That’s unusually appropriate…”

She looked over her shoulder, “Too soon?”

“Nah, it’s fine,” pulling the shirt over his head and zipping up the hoodie.

“Don’t have much in the pants department for you, JB. Sorry.”

He went to wash his face and retrieve his pants from last night. As she got dressed, he said, “Hey, I’m usin’ your toothbrush!”

From the other room she said, “I’m going out! Gonna pick up a couple things. Some spicy ramen, you know. The basics. Need anything?”

“Nah, I’m good.” He poked his head out. “Good luck, yeah?”

Sigrid smiled and waved, “You too!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, I totally imagine Bucky as the sleepy chibi Bucky holding a coffee cup trying to wake up. :D


	23. Natalie Rushman Enters Stage Right

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve finally figures out that he's been a douchecanoe. Is it too little too late?

Steve had spent most of the early hours of the morning waiting up for Bucky. He’d stopped watching Game of Thrones after Sansa Stark’s wedding to Ramsay. Just too much. No more marathoning that show…. Instead, he’d started watching Doctor Who. He wasn’t quite sure at what point he fell asleep, but he dreamt about Rose and the Doctor landing in an alternate universe World War II where Red Skull was really planted on Earth by the Cybermen to control Charles Dickens? _What?_

He woke feeling extremely disoriented to his phone ringing. “Hello?”

At first, he thought there was dead air – another robo-call – but then he heard street noises in the background. “I…. Sorry. I didn’t think you’d answer.” Sigrid?

He started smoothing out his hair before he realized she couldn’t see him. _What time was it anyway?_ Wait… Why was _she_ calling? A flare of temper followed by a sinking feeling in his stomach. Something must be very wrong. “Wh-”

“I just… wanted to hear your voice.”

_Wait_ – “What?”

“Sorry. I…” Her voice caught. “I was just going to leave a message, that’s all. I should go…” She sounded hesitant, unhappy.

“Wait – what message?”

Sigrid made a sniffling half-laugh, “Don’t know… I hadn’t gotten that far.” _Was she crying?_

“Are you ok? Do you –”

“I’ve got lunch plans…. Probably… maybe… and tonight, I promised to watch movies with Anni.”

“Anni?”

“Doesn’t like to watch them by herself. Makes her depressed.”

Anni? Anni… FRIDAY. _‘Tell me you’ve at least talked to all the witnesses.’_ Steve felt the breath leave his body. His hands felt too big for his body. Cold and sweaty. “Oh.” His mind grappled with the rush of words and emotions.

“I’ve gotta go.” She took a deep breath, “Don’t worry – not gonna keep bothering you…. Sorry….” She hung up.

“Wait!” Call ended – 2 minutes. Steve replayed their conversation in his mind. Eleven words if you counted ‘oh.’ He sat motionless replaying the conversation again and again, trying to imagine the right words.

He answered automatically when the phone rang again about twenty minutes later. Sharon. Yelling at him, telling him to mind his own damn business. “Yeah, it’s my fault. I’m sorry Sharon.”

Less yelling, but more angry talk. “Yeah, I’m listening. Wait, what? They went out? Together?” _The Nutcracker… Hells bells._

Even better, when he picked up the paper at the newstand, _The Post_ had put them on the front page of the Fashion section, but this time with a cover teaser. The cover photo showed Sigrid and Bucky laughing, standing close together – taking selfies? The others in the larger spread showed the two of them dancing in some kind of dive bar. And one of them kissing. 

 

> **Fashion Soulmates?**  
> 
> 
> Our fickle fashion favorite, Sigrid Vinter, showed off for cameras outside the New York City Ballet in line for _The Nutcracker_ with her beau _d’jour,_ Sergeant James “Bucky” Barnes, close friend of Steve Rogers. Afterward, the pair danced the night away at rockabilly tiki bar, Otto’s Shrunken Head (Brooklyn).
> 
> From our fashion desk: Brazenly bypassing hackneyed holiday attire, in favor of a fabulous fusion of sizzling styles, Vinter and Barnes rock the town with a shared vintage vibe. On her: 1970 Christian Dior gown in silver and gold sequins, double-breasted magenta wool coat, her own. Overheard, “Found it for $10 at a thrift shop!” Boots by Fantasma. On him: Violet vintage jacket and vest by Gieves and Hawke, pinstripe trousers by Kingsman. Alligator shoes, his own. The result? Approachable, effortless, en vogue.

 

Steve cradled his head in his hands. _What the hell was he going to do now?_

 

>>>>>>>>>

 

“Mr. Stark, you need to take this call.”

“Not now FRIDAY. I’m busy.” Tony was working on making improvements to a vehicle he’d been tinkering with based on the idea of building a better motorcycle. The idea being that with a small ARC reactor, he should be able to get something like that to fly without using alien tech. Mixed results thus far. It was a spare time thing anyway – but much more interesting than phone calls.

“I’m afraid I must insist.”

Call patched through. “Mr. Stark, you’re a difficult person to get ahold of,” Natasha said.

“N-Ro?”

“It seems that Ms. Vinter is being represented by Natalie Rushman… I believe you’re acquainted?”

“What?”

“Natalie Rushman has been engaged to manage Ms. Vinter’s public appearances.”

“Elsa? Who wants to see her?”

“Avengers fans want to know who she is. Half of New York is following her reported appearances online and in _The Post._ She’s trending on social media….”

“Why do _I_ care?”

“Because according to Natalie Rushman, you’re taking her to the Stark Industries Annual Charity Gala tonight.”

“ _You’re_ Natalie Rushman… No way. I’m not going.”

“Tony –”

“I’m not going there. Anyway, she’s probably up to something with The Weakest Link or Capsicle.”

FRIDAY’s voice broke in, “Sir, if I may interrupt…”

“Whaddya need FRIDAY?”

“Ms. Vinter has plans with me tonight.”

“See, Elsa’s got plans with FRIDAY tonight.” The words sunk in and hit home. “What do you mean she’s got plans with you? You’re my AI.”

“Sigrid is a personal friend. We’re going to watch romantic comedies.”

“What?!” Tony didn’t think it was odd necessarily for FRIDAY to have friends – they were _his_ friends after all, but it did make him feel left out that he didn’t know about it. “Chick flicks? You?”

“ _You’ve Got Mail._ ” FRIDAY’s voice chimed in with her clear clipped tones. “ _And Bridget Jones’ Diary._ ”

Tony groaned. He’d programmed FRIDAY to have independent thought, but romcoms? _Sappy_ romcoms. Ugh…. “N-Ro… why are you doing this? I thought you and Cap were buddies or something.”

Natasha answered matter-of-factly, “Coulson asked me to help manage any big public appearances for her and arrange the media presence, you know – the basics.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“Steve broke her heart, getting mad over a misunderstanding. While he’s being a dumbass, I need to take care of my friend. She needs to laugh, to feel important. To be noticed. Nobody gets attention like Tony Stark.”

“Awww… you’re just flattering me.” Sigrid did seem like a nice kid. He _almost_ didn’t mind being manipulated. “Why do you think she needs a distraction?”

FRIDAY interrupted again, “I alerted Miss Romanov when Sigrid left. I thought she might be in a poor mental state. My observations indicate she was beginning to care very deeply for Captain Rogers.”

Tony paced. “It’ll take too long to get there.” He knew this was a feeble excuse.

Natasha countered, “Not if you use a couple of suits. It’s 2 PM now. Get ahold of her, leave by three… In a suit, you’re there by 5 PM, you’ve got time to get dressed, have dinner, and then show her off on the red carpet. Tomorrow she’s got the taping of _The Late Late Show_ , but that’s all.”

“TV?! No Romanov. That’s it. Pulling the plug on this! Bye!”

“You’d be promoting the Stark Foundation….” Now Natasha was using her persuasive voice.

Tony sighed, “You had to make it about orphans and children’s hospitals, didn’t you…. All right. Fine. But you owe me Romanov.”

Natasha hung up. To FRIDAY, he said, “Show me what happened… What the big deal is all about.”

As he watched, first thought, ‘That’s where that shirt went….’ followed by chuckling to himself over her Pulp Fiction sequence. FRIDAY did a good job of editing – he could see the instant on Sigrid’s face when she saw Steve get her reference. The twinkle of mischief in her eyes, the slight quirk of her lips – definitely related to Loki. The kid really did wear her heart on her sleeve, though, whereas Loki showed you what he wanted you to see.

Watching her manage Strange (politeness and directness), Thor (flattery and distraction), and Loki (trusting him, teasing – but not undercutting him) was just as amazing as the first time he’d seen her manage the mischief. Tony tried not to think about what Sigrid might have been like if she’d had Romanov’s training.

He watched her magic demonstration four times, once from each of the cameras that recorded it. The way she closed one eye and bit her lips together, pretending to aim her finger gun at the bubble to pop - it was just so charming. _You’re too old for her Stark._ Then borrowing Sigrid’s movie for quoting, ‘You see, this is a moral test of one’s self. … You’ll take her out and then say, ‘I’ve had a very lovely evening,’ go home, jerk off and that’s all you’re gonna do.’ Aloud he said, “Things never go the way we plan Vincent. ‘Gather ye roses while ye may.’” _If you’re going to hell anyway…._

No. Watch the rest. See what happened. FRIDAY provided subtitles for Sigrid and Loki’s conversation. Tony was honestly surprised how familiar and brotherly Loki was with her. Like a real person. Less evil.

He could see Steve’s face start to pinch with suspicion though as they spoke. God. He would’ve probably said something that Steve would’ve misinterpreted too. Tony had really hoped to be able to blame everything on Loki, but it was really just a comedy of errors. Only not funny.

He fast forwarded through Steve blowing up at Sigrid. Then for a moment he thought FRIDAY had stopped the playback with a still image of Sigrid on her knees where Steve had left her. Then he noticed the time stamp still rolling. _‘He called me a goddess…’_ and there was Rogers’ goddess on her knees, broken, cut down by his words. The self-righteous asshole.

He asked FRIDAY, “How long did she stay like that?”

“Almost two hours.” FRIDAY paused, “Did I do the right thing by contacting Miss Romanov, Mr. Stark?”

“Yeah, you sure did. Poor kid.”

Tony’s lips pressed together, determined. “Well, FRIDAY, you ready to get this show on the road?”

“Shall I contact Miss Vinter for you, sir?”

“Nah, gonna do it myself. Can you make sure the suits are ready to go?”

“Of course, Mr. Stark.”

Tony sent Sigrid a text, ‘hey elsa, wanna build a snowman?’

He didn’t really expect for her to respond. He fully expected FRIDAY would have to use her digital prowess to automagically get through. Instead, he got ‘wtf?! Stark??’

‘im hurt im not in your contacts’

‘lol, whatever. Wassup?’

‘wanna build a snowman? Doesn’t hafta be a snowman..’

‘hilarious, Tony. Whatcha want?’

‘need a favor buttercup, you in?’

After a long pause, ‘sry getting on the bus. What kind of favor??’

Tony could feel the suspicion. ‘let me call you – faster’ He told himself (and he mostly believed) that he just wanted to convince her so he’d stay on N-Ro’s good side. Her bad side was really bad. Not a place he wanted to be. Natasha was patient. And Russian. Long memory, those Russians.

Sigrid picked up right away, with a half-suspicious, half ‘speaking to a toddler’ voice, “What’s up Tony?”

“I need a favor Elsa.”

“You said that already.”

“I need a date.”

“What? Why are you asking me?”

‘Natasha told me to’ not a good answer here. Then she added with extra wariness, “Did Nat put you up to this?”

“No. I juuussst. Thought you’d want to go. Totally a good time.”

“If it was going to be fun, you’d already have a date.”

All that and smart too. _She’s like 20-something in Asgardian years, pal._ A moral test… that your imagination is currently failing. Badly.

She sighed, “When is this thing?”

“Tonight.”

“God Tony, last minute much?” She sounded pretty annoyed. “Dressy?”

“Sort of a red carpet thing. An ‘event.’”

Sigrid sighed again and then laughed. “The _Post_ is gonna love this.”

“You like all that, huh?”

“It’s kinda fun, sure. You know, a change of pace. So, should I meet you wherever this thing is or are you sending a car? Logistics?”

“Text me your location when you’re off the bus and I’ll come get you.”

“I’m not going to be ready then…”

“Trust me Buttercup. We’ll change when we get there.”

Tony was not really much of a mind reader (sorry Pepper…), but calculating odds… that he was good at. Right now, it was very likely that she was thinking ‘Fuckin’ A. This shit is why Pepper left his sorry ass.’ Probably 4:1. Odds that she was delighted to be asked on a last-minute date by Anthony Edward Stark – 40:1. If he was lucky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Additional Pulp Fiction, Frozen, and subtle Princess Bride references.


	24. Perks of Playlisting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Distraction #2.... And go! :) More pop culture references than you can shake a stick at. And some witty banter on the side. :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! Last week was a beast and I was just trying to keep my head above water. :b Soooo... I'll try to play catch-up today and tomorrow since this chapter's kinda short. Let me know how you're liking this!! :D I know it's almost Christmas in July by now, but thanks for reading anyway! XD

Sigrid got off the bus. She did not text Stark immediately. She’d been suspicious when Anni canceled their movie night. On the other hand, she was intrigued by the thought of an ‘event.’ Kind of excited even. Although, she was going to be mad if he’d made Anni cancel their plans.

None of that was why she didn’t text right away, though. She just didn’t want to linger by this particular bus stop. Serious sketch. She walked to the corner store near her apartment. Her afternoon of brunching and browsing and reading comics at the Bronx Library Center (JB had said they had the best selection there, not downtown) had gone very well and James was on his way to clean up and get ready for a not-a-date with Sharon.

‘outside St Anns convenience store on 149th, bronx’

‘omw don’t go anywhere be there in 5’

Sigrid bought a soda and bag of chips and leaned on the front of the store. Crunch, crunch. She hadn’t ever tried shrimp flavored chips before. Not bad. A little strange, but not bad. Three and a half minutes. She’d gotten a small soda so she’d be able to finish. Snack complete. Five minutes, forty-two seconds.

A metallic ‘ka-chunk’ sound made her look up from the game she was playing on her phone while texting JB that wearing a shirt with buttons was not ‘overdoing it.’

"You’re late Stark.” Sigrid tapped on the chestplate, “Five minutes, fifty-three.”

“Nice to see you too, Elsa.”

“So you’re gonna _carry_ me wherever it is we’re going?” The tone of her voice was a little more ‘you’re telling me you live in your mom’s basement and you’re _how_ old?’ than she’d have liked, but she didn’t want to be toted around town like that either.

“Princess…. Simmer down!” Tony said, soothingly, “Not gonna carry you – you’re gonna fly!” The second suit landed next to Stark.

“No WAY!” Sigrid jumped around in a little circle for a moment, pumped her fists, and let out a (all things considered) very restrained squee of delight and excitement. “Dude! You totally should have led with that!” Pretending to be the second suit talking to her, “So what did you do last night Sig?” Turning back to her original spot, “Oh not much – just flying around in IRON MAN’s suit!!!” She fanned her face with her hands and squeezed her eyes shut with glee.

“Told you it didn’t have to be a snowman.”

She was so keyed up that she kissed the side of his visor. “New favorite Avenger! Sorry Clint! Sorry-not-sorry Stevie!”

“Not Natasha?”

“She’s my _sestra_ first, then an Avenger.” She pogo jumped in place in a tight circle one more time, then clapped her hands. Deep breath. Deep breath.

“So like bros before hos?”

Sigrid rolled her eyes, “More like chicks before dicks,” and stuck her tongue out at him.

Tony pretty much ignored her saucy remarks though. “Ready? We’ve got a way to go. FRIDAY will help you get used to the suit.”

“Anni’s coming? Awesome!”

“Anni?”

“It’s like her first name.”

Stark tipped his head slightly, listening to something, probably ANNI speaking to him. He nodded.

The second suit opened up and she handed Stark her backpack. “Can we drop it off someplace? It’s got my library books in it.”

The sensation of being enclosed inside the suit was majorly claustrophobic, but then she heard Anni’s voice saying, “It’s all right, just breathe normally. There’s plenty of air. I maintain the temperature and pressure settings as well as the flow of oxygen. If you feel uncomfortable, I’ll do my best to assist you.”

“Thanks, Anni. Say, Stark didn’t make you give up our movie night, did he?”

“No, it was my suggestion. I think Mr. Stark is pleased that I have a friend.”

Then she heard Stark inside her helmet, “Ready Princess?”

Sigrid moved her arms experimentally. “Ready!”

“I’ll take you up and then ANNI will help you take over. Three, two…” and they were off. Stark steered through the buildings and navigated the city.

Anni’s voice came through her speaker, “Are you all right Sigrid? You’re holding your breath.”

“I don’t want to scream in Stark’s ear.”

“I’ve muted you. Your volume doesn’t disturb me.”

“Oh my God Anni!!! This is SO FUCKING AWESOME!!!!!!! Woo hoooo!!!” She laughed and squealed and cheered.

Anni explained the suit’s controls and gradually let her take over. After a couple (more than a couple) minor problems (as problems with an AI-assisted robotic suits go), Sigrid was feeling calmer and less likely to burst into squeals of delight.

She turned to look at Stark. “If you’re wearing the suit, am I supposed to call you Mr. Man?”

“Kitten, you can call me whatever you want.” Tony cleared his throat after a momentary pause, “I said that. Huh.”

Sigrid stared at him through her visor. Was that as close as Stark got to embarrassed? How long had she been unmuted? Had Anni lied to her? Oh well, whatever. “I’ve gotta drop off my backpack quick. Balcony at the tower ok with you?” Just a quick detour and they were off.

After almost ten minutes of silence, Sigrid figured Tony was probably taking calls or something. She didn’t think it was possible for Stark to be embarrassed for more than a few seconds at a time. Too easily distracted.

"Hey Anni, can I get some tunes or something?”

“Of course, Sigrid. Your playlist?”

“Oh, not that one. I’m in a good mood right now. Can you pull up my Fight Sequence playlist from my phone?”

“Fight Sequence playlist?” Stark asked. “Really?”

“Totally – the music makes the fight sequence. Just think if every time you came on stage for one of the Avenger events they played ‘Send in the Clowns’ instead of those bass tracks from Black Sabbath?”

“All right. I’ll bite. What’s your go-to?”

“Set the scene for me.”

“Ok, the Vinter bio-pic – not the Disney version – you see the Hydra guys raising their guns, what song comes on?”

“First choice? ‘Welcome to the Jungle.’”

“Guns and Roses. Solid choice. A little safe.”

"Ok, your first choice for the Iron Man chaos, ‘stuff blowing up everywhere’ kind of action.”

“‘Master of Puppets?’”

“Oooo… busting out the vintage Metallica. Not bad, not bad… Tad predictable.”

“Vinter walks out into the WWE ring, what’s your theme music?”

“Bjork, ‘Army of Me.’”

Tony laughed, “I can see that. Nice! Good choice. All right, last date in one song.”

Sigrid hummed, “Just one huh? ‘Rumor Has It.’”

“Zing! That’s good!”

“Who plays Tony Stark in your ideal bio-pic. Not the one that came out a few years ago on TV – lame!”

“Hey!”

“It was. _Totally lame_.”

Tony sighed, “Yeah, it was unofficial. Go figure. Colin Farrell?”

“Not bad, too serious.”

“I’m serious!”

“Sure… Colin Farrell would never send anyone a text involving snowmen.”

“Point. Kenneth Branaugh?”

“Too old. I’d say Benedict Cumberbatch – he could get the rapid-fire thought patterns and the snark.”

“Cold fish.”

Sigrid sighed, “Yeah, I wasn’t really happy with that choice either. Just doesn’t have that Tony Stark _je ne sais quoi_.”

“The one and only.”

She couldn’t help laughing, even though she knew that was what he was angling for. “So who do you think would play me?”

“Milla Jovovich. Maybe Sophie Turner? _Game of Thrones_?”

“Sansa Stark?”

“If she could do action, I’d pick her. Queen of the North – wouldn’t be too much of a stretch.”

“You just want to make it a Stark thing.”

“Nnn… not _entirely_ true…”

Sigrid laughed. “All right. I was going to say Margot Robbie, but I guess I’m outvoted.”

“She’d just be the snarky, funny side of you. And maybe she’s got some action chops, but I don’t think she could pull off your… depth of character.”

“Wow… um, thanks Tony.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, kid.”

A few moments later, she said, “Is that the Mississippi River? Where are we going?”

“Los Angeles, Princess. City of Angels.”

“If you start quoting Red Hot Chili Peppers’ song lyrics to me, I will not be held responsible for my actions.”

“Whaaaat? Come on... I was just trying to give it a little flair. Some drama.”

She snickered, “Just what LA was missing.”

“Shut up.”

“We playing the quiet game now?”

“ _You’re_ playing,” said Tony sulkily.

“God, you’re such a child.”

“Am not.” Stark paused for a long (for him) moment. “Damn.”

Sigrid started the conversation again with “Best song about Los Angeles. No Red Hot Chili Peppers – that’s cheating,” and they went back down the pop culture rabbit hole. Arguing over the best 80s movie was the most fun though, since they both kept remembering other movies they liked better than the one they’d originally chosen.


	25. Yes, I Collect Italians

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I can't help it - their banter makes me smile. :)

Over the Grand Canyon, Tony went quiet again. Anni explained that Tony was taking a call from Pepper. _Well that’s gonna be awkward._ Well, it’ll be fun anyway. Not like it’s a real date, right?

Anni opened the door to the garage/lab so they were able to fly in. _What a trip…._

Anni’s voice came on in her helmet, “Disengaging armor seals.” As the armor hissed and clicked open, Sigrid stepped out. Tony’s armor just seemed to fly off in bits and pieces as he moved through the room. Several holographic computer monitors flickered to life.

“FRIDAY, you’re better than having a Clapper.”

With a startlingly human note of sarcasm, the AI replied, “I aim to please, sir.”

Sigrid looked around the room. Someone more technically minded would have found the computers and workbenches a garden of delights. For her though, the woman who (the last few weeks excepted) saved her money for the next time she needed to move and disappear in a hurry, it was all about the cars she could never afford.

The only reason she had Olaf was that she’d taken it as payment when its original owner, a very drunk Ivy Leaguer, nearly ran her down with it. She’d kept her word and not sold the story to any magazines – or called his father.

She breathed out, “Sono assolutamente bellissime.” _They are absolutely beautiful._

Distracted, Tony said, “Didn’t know you knew Italian.”

“It’s what I collect.”

“Italians?”

“Ha ha.” Sigrid pointed at him. “Funny.” She rolled her eyes, “No languages. Very portable souvenirs.”

“You like cars?”

“If they’ve got personality. Makes me a little sad that I’m too old to fix the new ones.”

“You work on cars?”

Sig glared at him. “Quit sounding so surprised. I can repair a lot of things on older cars –”

“How old?” Tony interrupted.

“Before 1970?”

“Nothing much changed mechanically in the 70s…”

“I lost interest.”

“Ah….” And the ‘ah’ was one of complete understanding of dropping one intellectual pursuit in favor of another. No judgement or disappointment. “What did you work on?”

“Olaf and ambulances mostly.”

“Ambulances?”

“During the war. Before you ask, both of them. I came over stateside after the second.”

“Too many memories?”

“Too difficult to travel. Too many spies.”

Tony nodded and the conversation moved between ‘Have You Ever – Automotive edition’ and discussing where she planned to shop.

A female voice spoke up from the base of the stairs, “Before you make too many plans, you should know I’ve had a small collection curated for you by a very reputable personal shopper.”

Tony made introductions. “Sigrid,” he pointed at the tall brunette entering the room, “My assistant, Maria Hill.”

Maria nodded, “We’ve met,” shaking Sigrid’s hand, “Good to see you Vinter.”

“Hill – I heard you’d gotten some kind of private sector gig. Coulson was pretty tight-lipped about it though.”

“I appreciate you not using the word ‘cushy’ in there.” Without missing a beat, she got down to business, “Phil’s been looking for an opportunity for some positive non-political publicity, so don’t blow it.”

“Hey, you work for me!” Tony complained.

“Networking and building synergistic opportunities.”

Tony rolled his eyes but stopped grumbling. Glancing at one of his workbenches, he said, “That’s where I left that!” Looking up at the computer screens, he found himself distracted by the project he’d been working on the last time he was here. Unable to resist, Tony started making adjustments, notes, and mumbling to himself and to FRIDAY.

Maria turned to Sigrid, “We’re going up to wardrobe to get you squared away.” Sig had no idea if Stark realized she and Maria left or not.

Upstairs in the main living area, Maria had displayed several racks of clothes. The variety probably either a headache or a delight for the buyer. Sig looked at Hill, “When did you know I was coming?”

“Yesterday afternoon.”

Sigrid ran her fingers through her hair, “Tony only asked me a couple of hours ago… What the hell?”

“Rushman can be very persuasive.” Seeing Sig’s puzzled expression, Maria added, “She’s your manager.”

Sigrid turned this over in her mind as she examined the clothes. “Does Ms. Rushman have a first name?”

Hill bit back a grin, “Natalie. She said you wouldn’t mind, that you love James Corden.”

“We’re going to _The Late Late Show_?!”

“Vinter, you’re a _guest_.”

“Shit! Really?!” She squeezed a coat with a lot of fluffy orange trim to her chest.

Entertained, Hill said, “Didn’t quite believe you were the fan she was making you out to be…”

“Oh, come on – he’s funny _and_ adorable!” As Sig looked through the clothes though, some of them looked familiar. _Natalie?_ She’d complained that she couldn’t buy another book cover shirt since she already had two. Yet here were two more for two more favorites: _Beowulf_ and _Casino Royale_. Natalie Rushman. N.R. Nat. She felt like such an idiot.

There was the green leather jacket she’d pointed out a couple of months ago – or one very much like it. She called Nat.

“Hey, _sestra_.”

“You figured it out?” Natasha did not sound particularly surprised or disappointed.

“Yeah.”

“Mad?”

“That I’ve been conned into two dates in as many days?” Sigrid wasn’t particularly, truth be told.

“I meant mostly about the date with Stark.”

“He should’ve led with the part about the suit, but otherwise it’s been ok so far. Flying in the suit is like the best motorcycle ride ever – cranked to eleven. Plus flying.” _Oh_ – there’s the dress for the Stark Industries Charity Gala. Deep red velvet, spaghetti straps, with the neckline draping into loose folds that made the dress look like it might fall off at any moment. The rest mostly form-fitting, but not tight. Slit up the front of the left leg.

“So it’s good?”

“Nat, you didn’t have to do any of this.”

“Hey, you’re one of my favorite people. You and Stark can pity party together.”

“Rage pity – to make it punk rock.” But she was laughing at herself.

Nat put kidding aside, “How you holding up?”

“I miss him. Called today. Was gonna leave a message.”

“And?”

“He didn’t say much, but I was all nervous – I didn’t think he’d answer, pravil'no?” _Right_? “I was talking so fast, I don’t even remember what I said.”

“What made you decide to call?”

“JB was calling Sharon and asked if I was gonna call Steve.”

“How did that go by the way? The _Post_ photos are really cute.” Nat sounded delighted with her handiwork.

“We both had a great time. And…”

“And…?” Nat gave the word extra emphasis. Sig could see the eyebrow arch and Nat’s slight turn of the head, a gesture full of implications.

“Well, yeah. Quite a bit – and then some more – but this morning was kind of hilarious because we sort of realized that we’re each other’s emotionally safe choice.”

Natasha Romanov did not often burst into spontaneous laughter, but even Hill could hear the peals of laughter through the phone and looked up.

Sigrid went on, “We joked about getting matching shirts. I was thinking while we were at the library –”

“You two went to the library?”

“Figured you already knew. We were checking out comics and adventure stories.”

“Get him started with Harry Potter?”

“I did,” Sigrid said proudly. “He’s got my _Clockwork Orange_ shirt too.”

“No shit?” Nat sounded impressed. “Leaps and bounds of progress. Wow.”

“Yeah, I thought so too.” Sig smiled. “I think he really likes Sharon. And when Sam called he said they were cute together.”

“They are,” Nat agreed. “She’s sort of a female Steve. Strong, feisty, stubborn, used to being right, but mostly humble. A good combination for somebody like Barnes.” After a short pause, she asked, “What about you – do you think you’d be able to forgive Rogers if he apologized?”

Sigrid thought for a moment. Distracting herself by trying to decide which shoes to wear with the dress. The black vintage pumps with the marcasite beadwork? Or… the spike heel sandals with a thin leather strap encrusted with gold glitter over her toes and one that twisted above her ankle? She’d have to try them on and see how they looked.

Slowly, Sig said, “Life is short…. I could forgive a moment like that, a mistake. But it’ll take more than ‘I’m sorry.’ Talking meaningful gestures here. Wanna make the right decision, you know?”

Agreeing, Nat said, “Mhm. Oh, hey, got a call coming in. Hill’s gonna catch you up on the details of the show.”

“Thanks again Nat.”

“Any time.”


	26. We... Are on a Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You need a **team**? With fondant and cereal treats?”  
>  “Wanda and Vision already agreed to help out, but I need some people with experience too. I’ll pay them.”  
> “So, you need a team of professional pastry decorators…. Anything else? A magician? Balloons?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's practically Christmas in July, but I hope you guys are liking this anyway! : > As always, I do love to hear what you're thinking!! :D

Natasha did, in fact have another call coming in. Steve had a plan, but he needed help pulling it off.

“Hey Rogers, what’s new?” Natasha said, casually.

Sighing, he said, “I’m an idiot.”

“I’ll second that motion,” she said not unkindly.

“Anyway, I know what you were trying to say the other day.”

“Yesterday.”

Steve groaning, agreed. “Yesterday. I’ve got an idea about how to fix things, but I need some help.”

Slowly, Natasha said, “Like what?”

“I need a few people….” Steve paused, trying to figure out how to approach his topic best. “You know those guys on TV who do the cakes? With all those little figures and stuff they make out of cereal treats and that sugar dough stuff?”

“Fondant?”

“That’s it!”

“You want to custom order a cake _five days_ before Christmas?” Natasha’s doubtful tone said it all.

“No… It’s better than that.” Steve could hardly contain his excitement – it really was a fantastic idea. “I just need … a team of people to help me put it together. I’ve spent all afternoon drawing it up.”

“You need a **team**? With fondant and cereal treats?”

“Wanda and Vision already agreed to help out, but I need some people with experience too. I’ll pay them.”

“So, you need a team of professional pastry decorators…. Anything else? A magician? Balloons?”

“The only other thing is to get her to the new Avengers base upstate on Christmas morning.”

“And keep her distracted until then?”

“Yes! That’s a great idea!”

“You going to make it to Stark’s holiday party Saturday night?”

Steve thought for a moment. “If all goes well, yes.”

Matter-of-fact and slightly dubious, Natasha said, “All right. I’ll come up with a list and give you the details as soon as I can.” Then fondly, “Good luck Rogers.”

Steve could hear the smile in her voice. _Encouraging._ He looked at his sketches. Then started making a list of supplies: cotton candy, powdered sugar, powdered egg whites, granulated sugar, crispy rice cereal, marshmallows, butter, shredded coconut, those little green marshmallow Christmas trees….

He didn’t even know what else he was going to need. Time to get ahold of an expert. He tugged on his coat, drawings folded in his pocket, and walked to the bakery with the good coffee down the street. April and Jennifer, the couple who owned and ran the shop were good people and if they couldn’t help him, they’d probably be able to give him good referrals.

Sitting down with April, the one who did most of the managing part of the business, they created a plan. He’d come tonight, tomorrow (Thursday), and Friday at seven (they closed at 6 PM). They’d prepare and sell him all the cookies he needed, and his team of decorators would be able to use the kitchen. Jennifer and her assistant Warren would take turns being on-site for insurance purposes and to help out. Then he went back to talk to Jennifer about what other supplies he’d need to get.

Walking out of the bakery, Steve felt better than he had in days. _This could work…!_ Waiting for 7 PM while walking to the store to get his supplies, he called everyone he knew who knew Sigrid to see if they’d be able to come upstate Monday afternoon. Christmas Day. Some people probably had plans, but a lot of the people in their circle were semi-nomadic – ready for whatever (usually trouble) at a moment’s notice. Others, like Loki, he knew were planning to visit already.

_Please let this work…._

 

>>>>>>>>>>>

 

Tony looked across the table at Sigrid as she ate. The Italian restaurant on Melrose had two Michelin stars and while Sigrid seemed to enjoy the food, he had the sense that she would have been just as happy if he’d taken her to In-N-Out for cheeseburgers and fries. On the other hand, Sigrid did like the wine. She’d complimented the waiter and thanked him for suggesting it.

He wondered idly if he’d paid for her necklace or if she had. He hoped Maria’d taken care of it. That was a hell of a rock, but deceptively simple. Had to be the size of the end of his thumb. The large red stone had what he assumed were diamonds, one on either side of the ruby? Garnet, maybe? Thin gold chain and that was it. Not even earrings or a bracelet.

The shoes were something else. The thin, sparkly gold straps that held them on? Practically intangible. With the heels, she was probably even taller than Thor. Yeah, they were turning heads, but Tony felt strangely superfluous. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been somebody’s arm candy. _Had he ever?_ Very unsettling.

Did Sigrid realize she was wearing his colors? Odds she was just being festive for a holiday charity gala, 2:1. Odds that the Earth-native with alien DNA was wearing Iron Man’s colors specifically to fuck with him and turn him on? 25:1. At best. _Relax, old man – it’s not in the cards._

What were they even talking about? His mouth was on auto-pilot. He was being the worst date. Imagining her lipstick smeared from kissing… _Jesus, Stark._ A little less squirrel with ADHD, please. Ah, they were talking about old limousines. Not today’s stretch limos.

He noticed her looking over his shoulder and then looking back at him. He started to look over his shoulder when she reached across the table and put her hand on his cheek, stopping him from looking. “Don’t look, biscottino mio.” _My little cookie?_ Tony wanted off this ride now. God, he was getting a headache.

He twined his fingers in hers and moved her hand and looked. At first he didn’t see anything, but then he saw Pepper at a very cozy table for two with… the guy from the Iron Man biopic? He looked across at Sigrid, “Pepper’s dating fake me?” Tony wished he didn’t sound so hurt.

“They’re just having dinner, right? Like us?”

“We,” Tony gestured between himself and Sigrid, “Are on a date.”

Sigrid smiled impishly, “Maybe she misses you and she’s trying to compensate.”

Tony huffed, unimpressed, folding his arms across his chest.

Sig went on, her eyes conspiring, “Sort of like having carob instead of chocolate.”

Tony couldn’t help laughing at the comparison. The next few minutes, they were talking about other unfortunate substitutions: chicory when you want coffee, pie when you want cake, fro-yo instead of gelato, and more. He loved the animated look on her face.

When the coffee and dessert came, she asked him to blow on her coffee to cool it off and then offered him a taste of her tiramisu – from her fingertip. Shame? Zero. On the one hand, no complaints about the change in atmosphere at their table. On the other hand, said change _had_ been rather abrupt.

A few minutes later, she folded her napkin and stood. “I’ll be right back, don’t go anywhere, Biscottino.”

He took her hand, holding it for a moment to delay her. “What’s with this ‘cookie’ stuff?”

She had that look again, mischievous and arch, that made his heart pound. “I like cookies.” Did she… did she just bat her eyelashes at him? “I’ll be right back. Promise.” She squeezed his hand and wove her way through toward the ladies’ room.

About three minutes later, Tony sat at the table, puzzling over the sexy turn their dinner had taken. Going from best locations for skiing (she loved it) and old cars to licking coffee flavored crème from her finger was fast – even for him. Then he looked up and saw Pepper walking toward the bathrooms too. For once, Tony listened to the voice telling him to just let it go, not to overanalyze. He’d just go wherever this crazy night took him.

He raised his hand to catch the waiter’s attention, “Check, please!”

 

>>>>>>>>>>>

 

Sigrid was literally powdering her nose when Pepper entered the ladies’ room. Ms. Potts washed her hands and without looking at Sigrid, asked in a low, but audible voice, “Are you fucking my – …” Pepper caught the slip, “Tony?”

Closing her compact with a loud snick, Sigrid said, “No… not yet.”

Drying her hands, Pepper asked, “Did he buy the necklace?”

Sig smiled to provoke Potts and started to reapply her lipstick, “No, I did.” She paused as if to examine herself in the mirror, then added, “Tony bought the lingerie.”

Pepper slapped Sigrid across the cheek. It stung more than she thought it would.

It had been really pathetic seeing Pepper Potts, CEO of Stark Industries – one of the global movers and shakers of world economic events – trying to look interested in fake Tony, who’d been going on about something or other as she pushed the food around on her plate. Also, while Stark seemed willing enough to follow whatever trail of breadcrumbs she left for him, he appeared more interested in her as a partner who enjoyed snide remarks and pop culture as much as he did. So, obviously, something had to be done.

Sigrid set her lipstick down on the counter and turned to face Pepper. “Do you think you’re the only one who wishes the person they care about most didn’t have a dangerous job?”

Pepper looked stunned. This was obviously _not_ where she thought their conversation would go.

Sigrid went on, “Stark is good – the best – at what he does. All of it – except trying to figure out a way to engineer a world that doesn’t need Iron Man.”

Ms. Potts frowned, “Tony loves those suits, what are you talking about? He’d never give up…” The mental tumblers were falling into place. “Why would he try to –?” Pepper’s mouth formed a little ‘o’ and she leaned against the counter heavily.

“I can’t think of another reason he’d want there to be a world without Iron Man.” Sigrid let that sink in a moment. When it looked like Pepper might get overwhelmed by guilt and hope, Sig added, “See you at the party. When the band starts with the slow songs, I’ll go get a beverage and you can casually run into him?”

Potts nodded slowly. Recovering her composure somewhat, she asked, “Why are you doing this?”

“Sisters before Misters, Potts.” Sig put her makeup back into her tiny gold mesh purse. “Also, I was kidding about the undies. I just wanted to get a rise outta you.”

Sigrid left, leaving Pepper Potts looking bewildered, but hopeful.


	27. We Go Together Like Pizza and Beer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Motion in his peripheral vision broke his concentration long enough to notice Sigrid standing in his doorway. _Were those his pajamas?_ Pretty sure bros don’t wear each other’s pjs. Maybe that part of the bro code only applied to female bros? Really the bro code was more of a guideline….

Rejoining Tony, Sigrid said, “Hey, sorry for being weird,” as though nothing had happened.

Tony held out her coat for her, raised an eyebrow and shrugged. “Forgiven, Princess.”

“Awesome.” She looked at him out of the corner of her eye, “Is it weird that I like you better as a bro?”

Walking out of the restaurant, Tony looked stricken, “I’m like a brother?”

“Ugh! No! That’s all I need. Another brother-figure.” Sig wrinkled her nose. Then taking Tony’s hand, she pretended to be ignoring the Instagrammers. “No – bros. Like I’ve got your back. Like pizza and beer.”

Tony nodded slowly, “Stitches in a dimly lit room, no questions asked?”

“Totally.” Sigrid smiled.

Tony relaxed, “Yeah, I can handle that. Not sure I’m ready for your flavor of crazy, Buttercup.” A split-second later, “Which one of us is pizza? Who’s beer?”

Sigrid tipped her head back and laughed.

 

>>>>>>>>>>>>>

 

The first part of the gala was fantastic. Tony introducing her around, photo ops, good champagne. Literal red carpet. Lots of people with more money than God. All she had to do was smile and chit-chat.

Then the music changed, and as promised, Sigrid went to the bar so Tony and Pepper could talk. And dance. They were whispering to each other now, smiling and dancing. _Good deed of the year – done._

The ballroom and the other thousand guests (give or take a few dozen) seemed vast now. Suddenly, she felt a little self-conscious and seriously out of place. She did _not_ belong here rubbing shoulders with the silver spooners. In theory, she could just walk up to somebody she recognized – or somebody Stark had introduced her to – and start talking. Talk about what though? ‘Hey, when I’m not waitressing at a shitty supper club, I kill people for a living. What do you do?’

Sig leaned on the bar and asked the bartender, “Hey, got anything stronger than champagne back there?”

The bartender made her a Singapore Sling in a tall, slender glass. She wished it was the kind of place where it was acceptable to order a pitcher and just add a straw. Hill’s voice echoed in her mind, _‘Don’t blow it.’_ Sig knew that Sam was around somewhere too, monitoring – along with the usual bodyguard types.

Also, totally wrong to wish for something exciting to happen. _Adrenaline junkie._ Instead, she walked out to the terrace with her beverage and slipped in her wireless headphones to drown out the music cheerful, yet benign enough to get people to loosen their purse strings.

Outside, Sig found an unoccupied section of marble railing, boosted herself up and sat. She was glad it was time for speeches inside, almost everyone was inside the ballroom listening and applauding politely. Space to breathe. Nobody taking pictures out here.

She scrolled through her lists of playlists. No, not sad songs…. Not Fight Sequence – or Workout…. Down at the bottom she found a list she hadn’t listened to for a while. _S.F.W.G._ Songs for Wayward Girls. _That’ll do._

The sassy, sexy notes of Salt ‘N Pepa came through her headphones. ‘Heeeyyyy – yeah, I wanna shoop baby…’ Sig bobbed her head in time and tried not to kick her feet or lip sync. She sipped her drink and thought about where she’d been before meeting Phil Coulson five years ago. How much her life had changed since then…

On the other hand, she’d been confident of her place in the world then. Back in the basement bar of St. Margaret’s, she’d just been another body with a black hoodie sitting in a dimly lit corner. People turned up, others slithered off. The only expectations attached to the bar’s occupants were violent tendencies, short lives, and poor life choices. Sig didn’t want to go back there, to the bleak anonymity, but the implications around the attention she’d been receiving these last few weeks had started to sink in. A swell of panic rising in its wake.

Sig shifted her focus back to the music and closed her eyes. Salt-N-Pepa had faded into the Beastie Boys. _‘I can’t stand it – I know you planned it, but I’m gonna set it straight, this Watergate. I can’t stand rockin’ when I’m in here, ‘cause your crystal ball ain’t so crystal clear…’_

Several more songs had faded in and out as she sat lost in thought, sipping her drink. Sigrid watched the palm leaves flutter in the breeze coming off the ocean. The sensation of having one of her earbuds removed startled her out of her melancholy daze.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Tony lost sight of Sigrid sometime while talking to Pepper. Even his teeth ached with how much he missed Pep. She hadn’t exactly said she wanted to start seeing each other again, but she had (very shyly) asked if it was all right if she came to his holiday party Saturday.

The way she’d danced with him and murmured, “It’s so good to see you Tony,” had him on cloud nine. Everything else had sort of fallen away while they danced. She’d smiled when he noticed her perfume was different. Then she’d had to go back to being Pepper Potts, CEO of Stark Industries.

He’d searched the crowd for Sigrid during the speeches and the polite, largely self-congratulatory applause. Tony hated not being in a building where he could call on FRIDAY. And how about that – Elsa had asked FRIDAY what name she preferred. Just like FRIDAY was a physical person. He knew for a fact that aside from himself and Vision, no one else on the team thought of her as an actual _person_. Meant a lot to him.

And here he was, losing her in the crowd. Opposite of being a good bro. He was definitely the pizza half of the combo – messy, something people argued about, never quite right. She was the beer – fresh, effervescent, more of a hefeweizen than an IPA. Squirrel! _Focus Stark._

Walking out onto the terrace, he saw her right away, gazing into the garden with the most forlorn expression he’d ever seen. She didn’t seem to notice him approach and after trying to get her attention a couple times, he plucked out one of her earbuds.

Sigrid jumped, startled.

She smiled, but the loneliness didn’t leave her eyes. “I heard he’s not really so bad once you get to know him. Kind of like bourbon barrel stout.”

“Strong, boozy, and bitter?” Tony f

“Your date must be kind of an ass letting you sit out here all by yourself. Heard he’s a textbook narcissist, so, you know.” Tony shrugged.

rowned, not quite sure if that was a compliment or not.

She laughed, “What’s not to like, right?”

“Wanna get outta here, Buttercup?” he offered her his arm.

They ended up going back to the house – better booze, fewer flashbulbs, more P&Q. A nightcap, the most chaste kiss on the cheek he’d ever received, and now here he was, sitting in bed unsure what to do with himself. Wasn’t really even late – 11:30. _Sleep? Pfft._

Tony finally dragged himself into the shower, deciding to watch some tv while looking over a few test result reports, maybe read some journal articles that had sounded interesting. _Totally relaxing._ He wore his reading glasses, a t-shirt and pajama pants and sat on top of his blankets, legs stretched out in front of him reading on his StarkPad, dictating notes to FRIDAY. He looked up at the holoscreen projected in front of him, eyes flicking through the notes he’d made, suggested process improvements.

Motion in his peripheral vision broke his concentration long enough to notice Sigrid standing in his doorway. _Were those his pajamas?_ Pretty sure bros don’t wear each other’s pjs. Maybe that part of the bro code only applied to female bros? Really the bro code was more of a guideline….

Sigrid looked a little embarrassed, “Couldn’t sleep, so I thought I’d…” she shrugged and played with her fingers awkwardly, “See what you were doing. But then I got here and didn’t want to bother you ‘cause you look busy.” She bit her lip, “Not trying to creep you out.” She pointed away from his room, “I’m gonna go…”

He knew he should let her wander off. That was probably the responsible thing to do since he really did want things to work out with Pepper this time. If there really was another chance coming. On the other hand,

1) Lately, not many blondes paraded around his home wearing his pjs (Steve wearing sweats for movie night didn’t count because those pjs belonged to Rogers).  
2) Said blonde very fetching in those pjs.  
3) He was a terrible human being.  
4) And a bad friend.  
5) But a good bro – hopefully.  
6) Probably nothing like that’d happen anyway…  
7) Already going to hell.  
8) Caution to the wind, live a little. Zombieland Rule #32: Enjoy the little things.  


Cons:  
1) Everyone he knows might hate him if something did happen.  
2) Might be weird since she and FRIDAY were friends (see Cons, point 1).  
3) Pretty sure you not bros anymore if you’re getting some.  
4) Aren’t you ever going to grow up?

“Guess you’re gonna miss the John Hughes movie marathon then.” Tony shrugged as though he didn’t care either way.

Sigrid folded her arms across her chest. “That is _not_ what you’re doing.” She frowned slightly. “Those are probably board meeting minutes or something.”

“Bite your tongue! I wouldn’t be caught dead with board meeting minutes!” Tony huffed. He shook his Starkpad, “I’ll have you know this is an article from _Physics Today_ about a spray-on polymer that can increase the tensile strain tolerance of concrete.” He blinked, “Spray-on coating that helps concrete bend more and crumble less. Could make buildings safer during earthquakes…”* 

A very small smile hovered on Sigrid’s lips. “So I _was_ interrupting.”

Tony heaved a sigh and set his Starkpad down. “Nah, just stuff I read for fun.”

She raised an eyebrow, “Sort of like me flipping through an issue of _Soldier of Fortune_?”

He glared at her over the top of his glasses, “You’re joking.”

“I’ll go make popcorn.” _You didn’t answer the question… Don’t think I didn’t notice Vinter._

"Wait, let me show you how the kitchen works.”

Sig looked at him askance. “Really?”

“It’s tricky.”

When they got to the kitchen, Sigrid understood what he meant. Most of the surfaces appeared almost seamless and you had to either know where the stovetop (or whatever) was – or the correct voice commands for the appliances to emerge from storage.

Sigrid did not look especially impressed as a panel slid away to reveal the microwave. “Why?....”

Shrugging, he said, “I don’t cook. Don’t like seeing all that surface area cluttered up with stuff.” He patted the counter top.

“Thinking about blueprints?”

“Um, design drawings actually. Pepper hates it. The kitchen. But she doesn’t usually have time to cook either. Not that she’s been around lately…” He got out the popcorn. Long shelf-life on microwave popcorn.

Sigrid started the popcorn and he got out a large stainless steel bowl. She looked at the countertop of the kitchen island thoughtfully – half-sad and half-amused.

“What?”

She shook her head, “It’s nothing.”

Tony stared at her, leaning back against the counter, spinning the bowl on his finger. “Yeah, right.”

“It’s dumb.”

“Then it won’t kill you to tell me. Let me remind you – I’m a pest and I have no off-switch.”

Sig removed the first bag of popcorn and gave it to Tony to shake and dump into the bowl, starting the next bag. “Was just thinking that an ex-boyfriend of mine would appreciate that there’s no stove top knobs to poke you in the back or burners to turn on by accident. Kills the mood most of the time.”

“Most?”

She smiled knowingly, “That one had so many kinks you’d need a slide-rule.”

“Sounds like you miss him.”

“Hadn’t thought about him for a long time, actually.” She retrieved the second bag of popcorn. “Beer or bubbly?”

“Surprise me.”

The wine fridge was not concealed – probably Pepper had put her foot down on that. She chose a bottle of mid-grade sparkling rosé. Sigrid sighed, and stood up.

“You don’t like that one, you could take the Banfi Rosa Regale – supposed to be good with chocolate, but I’m sure it’ll have the salty-sweet thing going on with popcorn.”

She put on a smile.

Tony set down the bowl and took the few steps toward her, putting his hands on her shoulders. In her bare feet, he could look her in the eye. “Hey, none of this fake cheer. I’ve got a whole team of broken people pretending to be fine. Don’t pretend on my account.”

Her sad, pale grey eyes searched his face for a moment. In a voice too small for her tall, athletic build, she asked, “Do you mean that?”

He nodded and managed to restrain himself from brushing the hair away from her eyes. “You, um – wanna talk about it?”

Sigrid thought a moment, “Probably. Would you do something for me?”

“Name it.” At least he didn’t say ‘As you wish.’

“Could we watch one movie before the John Hughes marathon?”

“A sad one?”

“I think so.”

Tony raised his eyebrows, a silent query.

“ _Breakfast at Tiffany’s_.”

“Thought that was supposed to have a happy ending.”

She shrugged, “Lotta people think it’s romantic,” Sigrid paused. “I just… I can’t explain it. It’s like they loved each other, but that’s not what they end up with at the end.” She shrugged, looking a little embarrassed, “It’s what I watch when I want to feel miserable. I always feel better afterwards, but…”

“The cure is worse than the disease?” Tony grabbed another bottle of sparkling rosé – the Rosa Regale in fact.

Sigrid nodded.

“Way I see it, we’ve got two options – the living room –”

“Does it have a conversation pit?”

Tony sighed. “No. And the sofa is one of those designer ones that looks great, but nobody wants to sit on.”

“And the other choice?”

“My room or yours.” _Go directly to hell Stark, do not pass go._

His room. They drank out the bottles, saving the popcorn for John Hughes. They sat with the head of the bed as a backrest, she rested her head on his shoulder, cozy in this little nest of pillows and blankets.

“Do you know what I did before I started working with SHIELD?”

Tony shrugged, “They kinda glossed over it in the file.”

“Have you heard of St. Margaret’s?”

“If you tell me you were a nun, I’m not going to believe you.”

“St. Margaret’s School for Wayward Girls.”

He laughed, “That I believe.”

“It’s a bar for mercenaries. Real dive.”

“'You will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy.’”

Sigrid smiled, the first he was sure was entirely genuine since he’d found her on the terrace at the Gala. “Exactly, only no band.” She took a drink and tucked her knees up. “Took jobs there for almost twenty years. A real fixture. I’ll take you there sometime.”

“Sounds great. Can’t wait.”

“Anyway, I was thinking about how I knew where I stood in the little life I made for myself there…. Now?” She shrugged.

Tony felt kind of like a tool for being part of the problem here.

She sat up and looked at him. “You’re kinda quiet… I’m ready for witty repartee, here.”

He sighed. Normally, he’d make something up – some kind of non sequitur – to deflect the unspoken question. “Just feel like a contributing factor to the chaos, is all.”

Sigrid sat back against the head of the bed. “Yeah, it’s totally all you. Nothing to do with discovering I have a family, getting dumped by Captain America, getting it on with his childhood bestie, or having Natasha Romanov decide to take charge of my love life.”

_Well, when you put it like that…_ Tony chuckled, “What could go wrong?”

“Right?”

“That’s _pravil'no_ in Russian?”

She nodded and nestled closer. “Very good, Biscottino. You’re paying attention.” Sigrid smiled and pointed at the screen where someone at the party sat on George Peppard. “I really like this part. Paul–”

“You mean Fred-baby?”

“That’s him. He’s such a square, but he’s not _quite_ awkward? I think this is him at his best – charming, laughing at himself and all the craziness.”

“Don’t like him later?”

Sig wrinkled her nose, “Nope.”

After _Breakfast at Tiffany’s_ , they started watching _Ferris Bueller’s Day Off_. About halfway through, Sigrid kissed Tony on the cheek.

“What was that for?”

“You’re quiet again... It’s unnatural. C’mon.” She stood up on the bed and pulled him up to dance during ‘Twist n’ Shout.’ Jumping on the bed, laughing, doing the twist.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“But you like it – you’re smiling.”

After the parade, they sat to finish the movie and she threw popcorn at catatonic Cameron. “Poor kid’s been through enough… Don’t throw popcorn at him.”

Sigrid looked at him, studying his face. “I’m sorry.” She moved and sat on his stretched out legs. Picked up his hands and threaded her fingers between his. “Why the long face little bear?”

Tony shrugged, flicking his eyes toward her, then away. “Hits too close to home in some places.” The way she was looking at him so intently, he thought she might probe, pick at the Howard Stark A+ parenting scab.

Instead, she leaned forward and kissed him softly, then tried to get up quickly, like it hadn’t happened.

He held onto her hands. “What was that for?”

Smiling mischievously, she said, “’Cause maybe being the Sausage King of Chicago isn’t always all it’s cracked up to be.”

“Keep kissing me, I might kiss you back.”

“That a threat or a promise?”

Tony’s lips twitched a moment, then he cleared his throat and grumbled, “Threat. I guess.”

“I’ll take that as my fair notice.”

“You’re a lot of trouble, you know that, Elsa?”

“Vexing?”

“Yeah, that too.” He squeezed her fingers. “Listen, you want somebody in your corner? I’m there. You wanna talk cars? Physical properties of ice?”

“Tensile strain tolerance of concrete?”

He nodded. This let-down-easy speech was going pretty well so far.

FRIDAY interrupted, “Mr. Stark, Steve Rogers is on the line for you. Should I patch him through?”

Tony rolled his eyes, “Yeah, fine. No visual.” To Sigrid he said, “Rogers just keeps calling. Doesn’t get that voicemail is for people you want to ignore…. Better to just get it over with.”

She nodded slowly, considerably subdued.

“Of course not, sir,” FRIDAY answered.

“Morning, Rogers.”

“Hi Tony. I heard you took Sigrid to California?” Steve’s voice sounded tense, but like he was trying to stay calm and non-confrontational.

“That’s right. She’s sitting right here in my lap. Wanna talk to her?” Tony winked at Sigrid, who looked a little ill.

Steve chuckled a little, clearly thinking Tony was kidding. “Nah, that’s all right. I… I just wanted to know when you’re bringing her back.”

Mouthing ‘ow!’, Tony disentangled his fingers from hers – she was squeezing too hard. Her eyes wide, full of anxiety. Thinking back to the Avengers Tower footage, Rogers’ jovial tone grated on his nerves. His reply was more clipped than he intended, “Elsa goes wherever she wants, whenever she wants to. _I’m_ coming back sometime Saturday.”

“Well could you tell her –”

“Not your message service, Rogers. If the lady wants to talk to you, she will.”

“I…” For a moment, it sounded like Steve would argue, but then he sighed, “Yeah… I know.”

“Listen Spangly, much as I’d like to chat, it’s 4 AM, time for some shut-eye.”

“Tony – ”

Tony cut the line. He looked at Sigrid. She was holding her hands clasped against her chest to stop them from shaking. _Goddamn Rogers._ He held his arms open and she leaned forward, forehead pressed against the side of his neck, and he wrapped his arms around her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *(Feder, Toni. Physics Today, Dec. 2017 “A spray-on material can retrofit walls to save lives in earthquakes.”) A real article, for anyone who's interested. :D


	28. So How Many Avengers Have *You* Kissed?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "So, can you tell us how you know the Avengers?”
> 
> “It’s a work thing, you know?”
> 
> James Corden looked at her, sitting in her black shift dress with a border of purple and green snakes intertwined around the hem, green leather jacket, and black vintage pumps. “Now I don’t want to assume anything… but do you ‘Avenge’ or is it more of a desk job?”

Tony woke later thinking that no one would believe that nothing had happened between the two of them. He barely believed it and he’d been there. Also, while it wasn’t necessarily strange to hear AC/DC blasting, it was odd in that he hadn’t turned it on himself. He got up, threw on some clothes and padded out following the music.

He saw Sigrid dancing in a t-shirt and slim-fitting cargo pants. She kept tossing her hair, so it was hard to tell if it’d been combed to begin with or not. _Whatever…_ Tony investigated his fridge and finding nothing that’d even remotely constitute breakfast, decided he might need to intervene.

He decided to work with the tools at his disposal, because – hey, it’s unwise to sneak up on, grab, touch, or poke somebody who’s been fighting longer than you’ve been alive. With his Starkpad, he projected ‘Vinter’ and ‘Breakfast’ on repeat onto every available holoscreen in the living room.

She turned the volume down and Tony was able to hear his phone ring. _Pepper?_ “Hello?”

“Hi – I... wondered if you had time for lunch?”

“Uh,” he glanced at Sigrid, “Yes. Yes I do. Um…. Sigrid’s still here.”

Pepper sounded slightly less enthusiastic, “The leggy blonde from dinner?”

“Uh, yeah… That’s her.”

“Send her out with Happy. He could take her somewhere for lunch, do some sightseeing, a quick dinner and to the studio. That should keep her out of trouble.”

“Ok… Let me run that by her…”

“Maria already spoke to her about it, it’s fine. Happy should be there any minute. Meet you downtown?”

“Um, sure.” As much as he wanted to see Pepper, he had grave misgivings about sending Sigrid out with Happy.

After hanging up with Pepper, he turned toward Sigrid. “You sure about this?”

“Yeah, I think it sounds great!”

“You’re chipper this morning.”

“Slept like a log. Must be the sea air.”

“Or something…” he muttered. Louder, he said, “Hey, don’t give Happy a hard time. He works for me – Pepper too, sorta, but that’s beside the point. I’m the one who gets to give him a hard time, not you.”

Sigrid studied him a moment, “Are you giving me a shovel speech for your chauffeur?”

“One of my oldest friends,” Tony corrected.

“Ok, I promise to be on my best behavior.”

Tony raised an eyebrow.

“What? You want an oath?”

Tony’s shoulders relaxed, “Nah, it’s all right Buttercup. You have a good time, ok?”

FRIDAY cut in, “Mr. Hogan has arrived.”

Jerking his head toward the door, “C’mon, I’ll introduce you.” She slipped on a pair of shoes – were those men’s house slippers? – with gold snakes embroidered on the toe.

Outside, Happy was holding the door open for her. From inside the car, Tony heard a chirpy, familiar voice, “Hi Mr. Stark!”

Tony frowned at Happy, “You’ve got the kid with you?”

“He got that award yesterday at the gala? Remember?”

Tony didn’t, actually. “Happy, this is Sigrid Vinter. Sigrid, Happy Hogan.”

Sig shook his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

Happy looked her over. Tony frowned. _Please focus Hogan._

Turning to Tony, Sigrid said, “You’re gonna be late for your date.”

Hogan hesitated briefly, “That’s not a neoprene hoodie is it?”

Sig smiled, “Kevlar lined. Not bulletproof –”

“But slash-resistant.” Happy sounded impressed.

“I think somewhat taser resistant too, but I haven’t tested that thoroughly.”

Tony breathed a sigh of relief, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad after all.

 

>>>>>>>>

 

All in all, the afternoon had gone really well. In-N-Out burgers and fries for lunch, then Los Angeles Gun Club indoor shooting range. When Happy found out Sigrid had never fired a gun before, they had to go. When it was time to go so they could continue their sightseeing extravaganza, Hogan had kept ‘just a minute-ing’ them while chatting with the guys at the range.

Sigrid had her sunglasses on and slouched and in her best bored, teenage girl voice, said “Dad, come _on…_ Peter’s gonna be late for band,” even more icily, “ _Again..._ ”

Peter opened and closed his mouth a couple times, but then kinda pulled her sleeve, “It’s not a big deal, Sig.” He looked down at the ground sadly and shrugged his shoulders, “Let’s go wait in the car.”

Hogan yelled, “Oh, no you don’t! You two are staying right where I can see you!” making it even funnier.

Sigrid had let out the most disdainful sigh she could muster, “What- _ever._ ”  


And Peter had turned toward her so the guy working the counter at the gun range wouldn’t see him laughing.

Sig covered for him, “Don’t cry Pete…” and patted his back as his shoulders shook with laughter.

The joke lasted the rest of the afternoon off and on.

That night at the recording for _The Late Late Show,_ Parker sat in the studio audience with Hogan. Stark and Potts nowhere to be seen. During the interview, she realized to her horror that they don’t typically record shows so close to Christmas.

“Your agent is _very_ persuasive.” James Corden explained.

“Oh, I know. She’s very dedicated to her… um… work, which I totally appreciate. I was so excited to be here that I didn’t realize… I’m so sorry!”

“You’re a fan?”

“ _Such_ a big fan!”

“Well, thank you…” Corden looked pleased and if he was annoyed, he covered it well. “Now I’ve got some questions here… So, can you tell us how you know the Avengers?”

“It’s a work thing, you know?”

James Corden looked at her, sitting in her black shift dress with a border of purple and green snakes intertwined around the hem, green leather jacket, and black vintage pumps. “Now I don’t want to assume anything… but do you ‘Avenge’ or is it more of a desk job?”

“I’m really more of a consultant? A subject matter expert.”

“Oh? What’s your area of expertise?”

“Kickin’ ass.”

When Corden stared at her for a long moment, she laughed and said, “Oh, c’mon – what would you say?”

Laughing, he asked, “There’ve been a lot of photos taken of you lately – let’s see a few, shall we?” The audience cheered, and Sigrid blushed.

“Sure, why not.”

“Okaaay… In this one, we see you at dinner with Thor and his brother, Loki…” She hummed in agreement and Corden continued. “So, date – or not a date?”

“Not a date.” She wasn’t sure if she was supposed to say that she was related – or that she was also an Asgardian. Then she saw Maria Hill off-stage – thank the gods – give her a nod. “We just recently found out I’m related – a cousin.” She waved her hand and made a joke about modern families.

Then they showed a photo of her with Barnes outside the New York City Ballet. “Were you two taking selfies? No offense, but Sargent Barnes doesn’t really seem like the selfie type….”

She laughed, “No, he’s not. Totally a date, though. Wasn’t selfies… What were we watching?” Sigrid’s face lit up, “Macklemore videos. You know ‘Thrift Shop?’ He’d never heard it before, so…”

The screen changed to a shot of her and Tony at the Italian restaurant last night, her fingertip in his mouth. Two smoldering expressions. Wow…. No wonder Pepper had been so mad.

“Definitely a date.” Corden looked at her, waiting for more. Sig could feel her cheeks flush again, “Man, Tony Stark…” She smiled, bit her lip, and winked, “What can I say?” Then she changed the subject slightly to bring up that Tony was in town for the Stark Foundation benefit today, which was true, she’d just forgotten about it.

“So just how many of the Avengers have you dated?” Thanks, Corden, for trouncing the orphans and children’s hospitals to get back on track. Not that she was particularly irritated, but she noticed.

“I’ve been on a – singular – date with two, but there’s this punch card thing, where if you date them all you get a free t-shirt. It’s kind of a scam, though, ‘cause when anybody gets close, they add somebody else to the team.”

Mischief lit up Corden’s face, “How many have you kissed?”

“You can ask me anything and that’s what you want to know?” Sigrid was a little put out. On the other hand, she was glad somebody’d apparently made photos of her and Steve off limits.

The crowd cheered and Corden raised his eyebrows, encouragingly.

“Technically, just one.”

“Technically?”

“One of the guys I kissed is technically not an Avenger.” She did not elaborate on which Avenger she’d kissed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG, I can't believe we're almost to the end! Well... sort of. ;) I've got a one-off for this timeline so far. My RL beta demands a real epilogue, so I'll cough that up eventually. hehe 
> 
> There's also the Bucky/Sigrid-centric fic that I've got going already. And I have a Tony/Sigrid-centric fic too because they're too cute together to not go there. 
> 
> The other fics are all timey-wimey and sort of how our decisions affect future events in unexpected ways. Trying to get them to work together as a collective group, but you can decide which pairing you like best. Comic book science for the win!


	29. Sweet Reunions - Dessert Too

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And now the fluffy confection-filled conclusion you've all been waiting for!

On the (comparatively boring charter jet) flight back to New York Friday night, Sigrid thought about their day. She and Peter had gone surfing with Hogan, who was surprisingly spry on a board. The whole lot of them had watched _Home Alone_ and _Christmas Vacation_ Thursday night to continue the John Hughes marathon.

Tony and Pepper were holding hands, chatting quietly. Totally her good deed for the year. And she hadn’t fucked it up after all. WTG girl.

She was pretty sure Parker was doing his homework. _Nerd._ Happy fell asleep almost as soon as they took off. She felt kind of useless at this point. ‘Fifth wheel’ just didn’t roll of the tongue the same way that ‘third wheel’ did – though arguably, it was even more pointless. A little donut tire or something. _Cheerful thought there._

Sigrid finally got home after 1 AM. She’d worried that her apartment, might seem too drab after all two and a half days of Tony Stark and his people, but with her cup noodle, a beer, and made for TV Christmas specials, she was good to go.

Her buzzer buzzed. Nobody buzzed her buzzer. Ever. She didn’t realize it worked. She got up, pushed the button, “Yeah?”

James’ voice came through the tinny speaker, “I’m sendin’ up your backpack.”

Whatever…. She wasn’t sleeping anyway. “Fine.” She pushed the ‘door open’ button and folded up her bed again, since she couldn’t actually open the door with the murphy bed down.

Enough time had passed between when she’d pushed the button to unlock the door at the street that she had started to wonder if something had happened. Sigrid had started putting on her shoes (unwise to walk the halls of her building without them) when she heard a soft knock.

“It’s open!”

She set down her other boot, leaving her with one boot on and one blue-striped sock. Looking up, she saw Steve, her backpack over his shoulder. He held a medium size pink bakery box delicately.

“Uh, hi…”

Sig stared at him. “What do you want?” Despite her irritation at being thrown for a loop here, she couldn’t help but notice the dark smudge of fatigue under Steve’s eyes.

Steve looked like he was searching for the right words.

She thought about saying something mean to make him know how much he’d hurt her. She’d done so well distracting herself, but she hadn’t forgotten. The tears came, unbidden and she turned away from him, not trying to hide that she was crying, but didn’t want to look at him while she did.

Her bag dropped to the floor with a thunk. _Good thing I didn’t keep my collectible Hummels in there, Rogers. Jeez…._

 

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

 

One hand held loosely over her face, her other arm dangling limply at her side, Steve watched Sigrid cry. Helpless. Her shoulders shook. Her voice muffled by her hand, she asked him again, “What are you doing here, Steve?”

Then the words started to spill out. “Sigrid, I… I’m an idiot. I’ll always be an idiot, I guess. I….”

She turned to face him. “You, you, you.” Anger and hurt washed over her features as she poked him in the chest. “You hurt me.”

“If I could take back what I said…”

“You really believed that I’d make fun of you that way?” Her chin quivered. “You really believed it…. What did I ever do to make you think I’d do something like that?”

Steve mumbled, “Nothing.”

She pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes and whispered, “Nothing.” Shaking her head, voice painfully raw, she asked, “Why do I love you?” Like she’d been cursed.

This was not going how he’d hoped. In his imagination he’d been eloquent. Apologetic, sincere. Now that he was here with her, his mouth stopped making intelligible sounds. The knowledge that he’d failed her washed over him. Utterly failed. He couldn’t fix this and he’d been stupid to think he could.

He touched her hands gently and she let him take them, the sadness in her eyes somehow worse than her anger.

Running his thumb over her knuckles, head bent, he said, “Thought I could fix this. At least enough to give us another chance. You trusted me and...” his voice choked with emotion. “Damn it all.”

Very softly, he thought he heard her say, “Language, Rogers.”

He looked up, startled out of his spiral of self-torment.

“So intense…”

He sniffed and blinked, remembering Peggy’s words, _‘Always so dramatic…’_ He mumbled, “Peggy said something like that once.”

Eyes still red from crying, Sigrid looked at him thoughtfully, “She may have been onto something…”

Steve looked up at her, forehead creased. “You’re making fun of me.”

“A little.” Stepping closer, “Think we’re the only ones to break up and make up again?” When he started to speak, she pressed a finger to his lips. “So, you were wrong….” She shrugged, “I slept with your best friend and kissed Tony Stark.”

“You two weren’t sleeping… Wait – you kissed Tony?” Not mad, just perplexed. _Hadn’t seen that one coming._ He frowned slightly, “I think you got the better end of that deal.”

She laughed and the sound was so unexpected that he smiled. “Fair enough – next time I’ll be wrong and you can kiss Tony. Can we work out the details later?” Her eyes like liquid pools of quicksilver.

“Huh?” _Jesus, Mary, and Joseph_ – he really _was_ in top form tonight.

Sigrid stood close to him. He held her hands and kissed her knuckles. She leaned closer and for a moment, he thought she was going to kiss the side of his neck. Instead she sniffed and looked up at him, confused. “You smell delicious.”

“Uh, thanks…?” _Bloody hell!_ All the eloquence of a bowl of cold oatmeal.

From outside, he heard Bucky shout, “Hey punk! Kiss her already! We’re freezin’ out here!”

They both leaned in toward each other tentatively. As their lips touched, both grew more confident. She slipped her arms around his neck and he held her, one hand on her waist, the other cupping her cheek. Kissing each other soundly, thoroughly, and totally without regard for their chilly friends outside.

As he started to kiss across her jaw, she whispered his name and he felt the hot curl of desire settling in between his legs. She kissed his jaw and licked the edge of his ear before nipping at the lobe. Then, almost accusingly, she said, “You smell like cookies.” She lowered her voice to a seductive whisper, “What’s in the box, O Captain My Captain?”

From outside, Bucky was shouting again, the Brooklyn showing in his voice, “Wrap it up Romeo! We’re still waitin’!”

 

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

 

Sigrid raised her eyebrow, “What’s this all about? Who else is outside?”

Steve ran his fingers through his hair sheepishly, “I wanted to do something nice for you… and got a little carried away. I was gonna wait until Christmas morning, but…”

“You got carried away?”

Steve nodded, “Almost everybody’s outside waiting….”

“Ok, well, it’s late and we want them to be our friends tomorrow too, right?”

He picked up the pink box, “Go ahead and open it.”

Sigrid opened it to find a diorama made of gingerbread, frosting, and candy set up to look like the inside of Coulson’s Bus. On one of the couches was a little figure covered up in a wooly blue blanket, with one figure in a black suit sitting across from the sleeping person and another in blue standing next to them.

“Is that cotton candy?”

“Yeah,” he pointed to the black suited figure, “That’s Phil.”

“No hair – makes sense.” She giggled.

He pointed at the standing person, “That’s me,” and he moved the cotton candy blanket to reveal a figure with pale blonde hair. “That’s you.”

“I don’t remember this….”

“It’s the first time I saw you.” He grinned, “I wanted to talk to Phil about something and wanted you to move somewhere else and was gonna wake you up so you’d move and he told me, ‘Cap, I wouldn’t do that if I were you.’ And he looked so serious that I brought you the blanket instead.”

Thinking, she said, “Must’ve been when I came back from Dresden… they picked me up. Didn’t make me find my own ride home.” She sighed, “Yeah, Coulson was totally looking out for you there. But you said there’s more?” Curiosity piqued.

Steve buzzed everyone else up. They had to wait in the hall and come in one at a time. Next was Natasha, she smiled and gave Sigrid a hug. “Steve tell you he needed a team of professional decorators to help him with these?”

“I was going to…”

Sigrid laughed, “I’m never going to tell you to ‘leave it’ again. It’s all gonna be ‘meddle away’ from now on.”

Nat tried to look innocent and failed, “I’m a spy… I meddle.” She shrugged, “Ready for door number two?”

Sigrid opened the next box and saw two female figures, both in black, one with red hair and the other blonde looking ready for action and two other figures, who she took to be Steve and Clint – or rather Captain America and Hawkeye – in their gear. They stood outside a building that had only partially been recreated, but she could tell that it was the first mission she’d gone on with Captain America. He’d seemed annoyed that the three of them knew each other already – even the Cap made from sugar paste was frowning. She could tell this was the occasion by the slanted side of the building, frosted a rather unappetizing grayish color with little mini chocolate chip rivets. The ‘abandoned’ antiballistic missile base in Nekoma, North Dakota.

She looked up at Steve, “Our first mission together?”

Steve nodded and laughed, “I remember being irritated with you three. You guys just knew what to do, hardly spoke to each other, all clipped nods and hand gestures.” He waved his hands and pretended to be serious. “The directive I got was _very_ brief, basically just ‘Go Rogers. Assist.’”

Nat said, “It was need to know.”

Lines of irritation appeared on his forehead. Sigrid kissed his cheek, “The thing where you ricocheted your shield around the room and knocked those guys out was pretty cool, though. You were totally intimidating.”

Natasha balanced her box on top of Sigrid’s toaster. “I’ll send Bucky in. Good luck you two.”

“Night Nat! Thank you!”

Bucky’s box contained a cookie diorama of the kitchen at the Avengers upstate facility, with a little figure of Sigrid stirring a pot on the stove with a Steve standing next to her in his sweatshirt and jeans. She was making cocoa.

Sigrid smiled impishly, and Steve blushed, both of them remembering the events _not_ depicted in baked goods. James looked between the two of them, then at the (to the uninformed observer) boring scene in the box. “You two are crazy. I’m waitin’ in the hall with Sharon.”

Sam brought the next baked scene – the two of them training at the gym. ‘ **Surprise!** ’ written carefully on the candy Sigrid’s shirt. After the gym, was the Bartons’ barn, with the sugar paste Sigrid singing into the pitchfork handle in a rock star pose and Steve watching from the door. The cows were made of marshmallows, with pretzel stick legs.

“Bet you can’t tell I made the cows myself.” Steve smiled, finally able to poke fun at himself a little. “The hay’s shredded coconut with food coloring to change the color.”

After the barn scene was a replica of the Bartons’ living room, with Steve dipping Sigrid as the two older Barton children watched, their mouths little O’s of astonishment (horror?). “The couch is made of cereal treats,” Steve explained. “Push the button on the record player…” He could hardly contain his excitement. When she did, it played Glen Miller’s ‘Moonlight Serenade.’

That earned Steve a full kiss on the lips. “Promise me another dance later?”

“Promise.” He hugged her and kissed her forehead.

Wanda, who’d carried this particular box smiled and said, “I’m so happy for you both!” hugging them. “Good night!”

The next scene was deceptively simple, just two figures sitting on a park bench with a candy stick lamp post and paths made of Necco wafers, white frosting representing the snow. At this point, Steve was standing behind Sigrid as she opened the boxes, arms slipped around her waist.

Sharon brought the following box. “How many more of these are there Steve?” Sigrid asked, looking over her shoulder at him.

Slightly embarrassed, he replied, “Just this one and one more.”

Sharon’s box held a collection of clear animals. Sigrid looked at Steve questioningly. “They’re hard candy. Look again.”

Looking more closely, she saw they were anchored to the cookie base with some icing. Then she noticed what he meant. A pale purple unicorn with its horn broken. She whispered, “ _The Glass Menagerie_.”

Steve kissed the back of her head, “I’m so sorry. And you were right, the play was amazing.”

Sigrid leaned back against him and closed her eyes. “Say that again.”

“It was amazing?”

Sighing, “No – the other part.”

“I really am sorry…” He sounded confused.

“No – the part in between.”

The gears of cognition spun through what he’d said. “You were right?”

Sig turned around and looped her arms around his neck. “Let’s just start from there next time. It’ll save everybody a lot of trouble.” She bit him on the chin playfully.  


Sharon cleared her throat, “Um, James is waiting for me in the hall. I’d better…. Well, have a good night.”

Sigrid didn’t pay any attention, “You hafta eat the unicorn’s horn though.”

Steve laughed at the strangeness of her request, “Uh, ok. Any particular reason?”

“Cause it’s vaguely phallic and therefore hilarious.” Her eyes sparkled.

Giving her his half smile with an eyebrow raised, “Every time I start to forget you and Loki are related something weird strikes you as funny.”

“It’s _called_ having a sense of humor.”

“I have a sense of humor – it’s just not weird.”

“What did we just agree on?”

“That I’d eat the candy?”

“No – before that…” She batted her eyes at him.

Thinking back through the conversation until he laughed out loud. “You may have a point – it does save time.”

“It’s faster just to say –”

“You weren’t wrong?” He grinned, eyes twinkling. “Told you I’m funny.”

As much as she did find it entertaining, she rolled her eyes, “If you have to tell people you’re funny…” Sig pressed her lips together and shrugged slightly, the ‘well, sorry to have to tell you this way…’ pose.

“Bet I can make you laugh right now.” His expression totally screaming, ‘I’m up to something!’

He looked so smug that she had to go along with it – even if part of her really wanted to be contrary and spoil the fun. “All right. Do your worst”

Quicker than she’d seen him move before, his hands darted up under her arms and he tickled her.

She squealed and giggled. A neighbor thumped the wall. Giggling, she pleaded for him to stop.

Steve was giving her a wicked smile she hadn’t seen before, “Not till you admit I’m funny.”

Sigrid nodded in agreement, but not defeat. “Some say Steve’s super-soldier serum sparked seriously side-splitting silliness.”

Steve started to protest, but a quiet, firm voice from the doorway said, “She said it.”

They both looked up, “Hi Bruce.”

He gestured to the hallway, “Sorry to interrupt, but Tasha’s waiting, so….”

“Sorry....”

Bruce pointed to the hallway, “It’s just that it’s late, you know…. Everybody else went home.”

Sigrid opened the last box that was narrower and taller than the others. Inside, was a sort of faceted clear snow globe-like structure with candy dots stuck to all the interior surfaces. Also inside were two more sugar paste figures of herself and Steve. On top was a red button.

Explaining, Bruce said, “The button isn’t edible.”

As she pushed the button, several hidden LED lights light up and flashed. A small – _chocolate?_ – plaque at the base said, ‘Wonka-vator.’

Steve took the box and set it on her table – her kitchenette full to bursting with bakery boxes already. “Thanks again Bruce.”

“Good night!” Sigrid chimed in.

Alone again, watching the lights on the candy Great Glass Elevator blink, Steve said, “Tony gave me the idea for this one – that you go wherever you want to….” His eyes searched her face, “I just…” Taking a deep breath, he started again, “If you want someone to come along – I’d like to laugh, argue, fight, and make up with you as long as you’ll have me.”

He was biting his lips together, anxious. She said, “‘Make up’ sounds kind of like a catch-all.”

As he started to explain, _bless his earnest little heart_ , Sigrid added, “Maybe something you can demo?”

Kissing again, one arm wrapped around Steve’s neck, she pulled her bed down with her other hand – not breaking their kiss. That done, as he started trailing kisses down her neck, _tasting_ her and groaning, she threw a book at her light switch to kill the lights. The festive LED lights twinkled joyously, while outside, the first few flakes of snow began to fall.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first fic I've written in a *very* long time. It's only been partially beta-ed, so let me know if there's any inconsistencies & I'll patch them up! Really looking forward to your feedback! :D Also, I suck at summarizing - just throwing that out there. :b
> 
> Also, I own none of the Marvel stuff (it's just so cool!!!). Sigrid is my character though.


End file.
